[Antinous Training Grounds] The Short Bow Hunter (Fallon)

[Alabast]

51st of Spring, 513 AV, Antonius Training Grounds "Sylir, guide my bow." Alabast released the string and the arrow drilled through the predawn darkness, hitting it's mark. Well, nearly. If by 'nearly' one meant barely hitting the target. Alabast was far from a master archer, but the boy was usually sharper than he was today. Then again, he was usually in the forests, and he was usually near his family. The squire let his bow arm slack to his side and he placed his left hand over his pectorals. He let out a sigh of longing which could be seen billowing out from his mouth even through the darkness of the cool morning air. Springs here were temperate, but before sunrise it was still quite cool. Back at the Outpost, on mornings like this, Mama would make Alabast and his siblings a sweet salt pork porridge to start the day off with before they started about their daily chores. Here in the city, all he got was some bread. It wasn't even very good bread either. The hand on his chest hovered over his Gnosis mark of Oriana, the goddess of bears and family. Perhaps his linkage to the goddess was why he felt the distance between himself and his loved ones so keenly. Perhaps not, as he was sure he'd feel this even if he wasn't marked by Oriana. He notched another arrow and breathed in again, focusing on the target. He let it fly and grinned at the sound of cloven air and the string snapping against his arm guard. At least that was still familiar. The arrow hit the painted bale of hay target a little closer this time. Bast wasn't the type to let something like homesickness weigh too heavily on his mind. He was here to train, to get better, and if nothing else, the sooner he was knighted the sooner he could go home. "Sylir, guide my arrow." He prayed lightheartedly as he notched yet another arrow. All of a sudden he felt himself becoming self conscious about his stance and his position. He could hear his father's voice ringing in his ears. ''Damn it boy," his father would say with an odd mix of sternness and playfulness that Bast had learned to find comfort in "can't you hit the broad side of a barn? I'm an old man with one eye and I could make that shot! Ooh, boy don't you shame me now! I earned the name Hartbane, the hard way. Is that a name I can give to you? Or are you just gonna embarrass me." Alabast sighed in annoyance at the conjured voice and whispered to his imaginary father as he took aim. "You're really not helping dad..." The young man groaned. His father had a certain bravado that most people could only take in small doses. Reminiscing on it did curb Alabast's homesickness, but it also called up all the memories of why Alabast was here. He was the son of Lu 'Long Shot' Hartbane. He was destined to bring honor to his family name. No ifs, ands, ors, or buts about it. It made Alabast proud, to think of the legacy he'd inherited. It was also a bit on the heavy side to think about so early in the morning. Alabast focused his mind and tried to call up some more helpful advice. He could hear his older sister Isikai's voice now. "Arms straight. No, don't close your eye, dad talks a lot of shyke but he shot better when he had both of his." She would say to him[color=lightblue] "Chin up. There you go. Make sure your footing is correct, you need to practice that now, because you won't have time to check it in the field. Good. Take deep breaths, but don't hold them in. Natural, natural." He followed the imagined instructions to a "t", though the scrutiny from an imaginary peanut gallery did cause him to feel a bit self conscious about his form. He could here her in his head still "Practice does make perfect Bast, but only if your practice perfectly." She would say that, she loved to say that. He loosed the arrow. The feathered spear tunneled through the air, and on this third shot it found it's mark. "Yes!" The aspiring knight let out a yelp of excitement. He was glad no one was here this early, otherwise that could've been embarrassing.

[Fallon]

Fallon had been watching for a while, a look of both curiosity and fascination on her face. It was clear by the way the boy moved that he was far from experienced, but never the less it was still something that she could not do. She watched his form, one that had been trained into him, the mechanical movement of something that was imbued into him from an early age. From behind the squire stood and remained a silent audience that would not speak or react until the necessary time. The arrow was notched, the point rose, the string pulled back and made taut before finally it was released.

It was the low thud that confirmed that the arrow had hit the target. A little off, but it had indeed hit. And that was a lot better than what Fallon could do. She watched him repeat the process, her eyes glancing down briefly to her own short bow- or more correctly the one she had borrowed from the knights to train with. It was going to be interesting for her when she attempted to shoot. She would no doubt make a fool of herself in the process, but then again she had done that already with the Tulwar before. Fallon placed a hand on the shaft of the bow fingers flexing around it as it slowly grew comfortable in her hand whilst the other plucked at the string with her gloved hands. The thud of the second arrow hitting caused her to look up and once more to the boy.

Her eyes analysed his stance, the positioning of his feet and the way he faced the target once more. The third arrow was notched and released, its target shortly after reached. The cheer of success marked this, and so she gave a clap, not one out of mocking, but simply by being impressed by what she had seen. Walking closer in the dull morning light, did Fallon Skylar bow her head to him, a simple mark of respect to him and his ability.
“Nice shot,” she gave a smile and awkwardly stood at the target one down from him. She wanted to give a sense of space to the boy without the feeling of an older squire focusing herself upon him “Wish I could shoot like that.”

The squire turned her attention now onto the bow in hand and lowered the arrows to train with. It would be hard work, but she was willing to learn at least. Even if it was only at the most basic of levels. She needed to start, so now was better than never. She first held the bow vertical before her, her arm straight and her back going stiff. Her other hand plucked at the bow, feeling the rough cord of it against her fingers, a gentle pluck as she tested it. It was a stance she was far from use to, but it was one she would have to understand. A necessary evil to get to knighthood. Twisting herself, she shuffled her feet around until she found a stance that was both comfortable and slightly like what the boy had previously used and held it. Muscle memory was vital, and with that bit of memory she would be able to slowly and gradually perfect it.
Right… what next… Arrow?

[Alabast]

Bast thanked the gods for his dark complexion, because if he was lighter it'd be obvious that he was blushing. He was so involved in his target practice that he hadn't noticed the training grounds steadily becoming more and more populated, or the orange yellow orb of Syna peaking it's head steadily over the horizon. Most of all he was surprised by the woman who'd approached him. No doubt she was a squire like him. At least, that's what he gleaned from the way she carried herself and her lack of knightly looking armor. Her voice was so sweet and pleasant that he couldn't help but take the compliment graciously, not that young Alabast had ever learned any other way to accept a compliment. "Thank you sera,'' he said with a bow of his head in response "I've been shooting since I was a boy. Well...a younger boy. But, I learned to shoot on forest game, not in a field." he looked around to indicate their current setting "like this." He nodded to her friendly and became aware of how awkward he felt. Whether it was true or not, Alabast always felt as if he talked too much when he was nervous. He nodded his head in a manner that clearly meant 'Excuse me', and went to retrieve his arrows from the target. As he returned to his shooting position he noticed the lady squire was hesitantly and somewhat awkwardly trying to get into an archer's stance. Alabast himself went back to the methodical repetition of notching and firing arrows. Or he would've. His eyes couldn't help but shifting from the target over to this woman. She seemed unsure of what to do next. Alabast couldn't resist intervening. Somewhat hesitantly he approached her, leaning forward a bit and speaking gently. "Uh, pardon my boldness sera, but would you like a bit of advice?" He didn't want to see presumptuous. "You should make sure your feet are parallel to one another and point at a right angle from the target." He offered. "And make sure your bow is straight up and down, like this." He demonstrated. He'd only recently arrived in the city proper and was eager to make friends, and it could be heard in his voice no matter how much he tried to cover it. "Have you...been with the knights long?"

[Fallon]

“Sera?” Fallon’s head turned sharply to the boy “I thought that was a title reserved for Knights, not squires?”
She gave a blink at him, but let the question pass. He was indeed just a boy, she was not about to press him for answers. More so when he had addressed her politely and maintained manners even when he went off to claim his arrows. She watched him for a few ticks, before once more trying to maintain her stance whilst she picked up one of her own arrows. Her fingers turned it over carefully, eyes narrowing down at the tip, before he returned and spoke once more, his voice trilled with hesitation. She looked at him, the bow lowering as she studied the stance he made.
“So… feet parallel,” she shuffled her feet about bringing them into position “and one pointing towards the target… like so?” She shifted her right foot so it turned towards the target before presenting it to the boy.

The girl then proceeded in raising the bow and brought the arrow up with it, the nock resting against the string. She held it badly between her fingers, before lowering it once more. There was a low chuckle “Don’t think I’m getting this right again.” Wetting her lips she studied the arrow fletchings and the nock, before bringing them once more to the string, whilst the rest of it she balanced upon the hand that held the shaft. She focused down the end of it and answered the boy’s question.
“Ah no,” she gave a sigh, “I joined the Knights on the fifth of spring after spending a lot of time travelling here. So far though, it has been worth it. I have learned a lot though.” A smile flashed there as she continued to try and get use to the stance with a look of discomfort having grown “Still… pretty cool you’ve been shooting since you were a boy. Wish I had someone to teach me when I was your age; make my life a lot easier now,” she gave an approving nod “What about you? You from Syliras?” Fallon gave the bow string a nervous tug, feeling it pull in her fingers before she relaxed it once more. It was going to be the beginning of long journey; she had after all nothing to compare it to unlike melee weapons.

[Alabast]

Alabast rubbed the back of his head at the woman's question "Well, I wasn't sure you weren't a knight. Always better to be too respectful than too rude I think." He watched her preform, she seemed very tense. It was an intensity that reminded him a bit of his older sister, though maybe he was over reaching. She seemed determined to get it right, no matter how much work it took, and Alabast found that admirable. "Traveled!? That sounds awesome. From the outpost to the city is about as far as I've ever traveled." He looked distantly for a moment, towards where his former home was, and then answered the woman's question about his origins. "Syliras? Not quite. Well, at least not the city proper. I was born and raised on the Mithryn Outpost, down the Karbin road a ways. I miss those green fields, but I'm happy to be here. Oh! Where are my manners?" Alabast bowed his head down a bit. "I'm Alabast Hartbane. It's a pleasure to meet you! Uh, this may sound weird, but if you ever meet my mom, don't let her know I didn't introduce myself, okay?" The young Hartbane punctuated this with a chuckle. "If you ever find me too polite, blame her. Hahaha!" Alabast notched another arrow and pulled the bow taught, and the released the tiny spear. It flew true, and hit the bale of hay not too far off center. Having someone to talk to actually was making him shoot better, as he didn't have to be distracted by all of his unsure thoughts. He enjoyed having company in this somewhat foreign place. "And as far as being taught young, well yeah, I've been shooting since I was little." In between words, the young man loosed another arrow. "But, not always hitting." He smiled. This one was more off than the others. "Don't let it discourage you, just keep your eye on the target. Then again, if I may, you don't seem like the type of lady to give up so easy." He eyes shifted over to her. "Your fingers, don't clench them up so tight, and your feet... How do I put this? Well, imagine there's a line from your target to you. Put your toes on that line. You can angle your forward foot towards the target if it makes you comfortable, or not, it's more preference, but keep that back one perpendicular to the line. And always keep your back straight." Alabast stretched out his shoulder blades by doing a back and forth chicken wing movement with his arms, to drive home the point. "What my dad says is, you're supposed to feel it in here."

[Fallon]

Fallon gave a smile “Alabast, pleasure to meet. Fallon Skylar is my name. And the Mithryn Outpost, I’ve been there once or twice. But I was a lot younger back then,” there was a low chuckle “And your mother has managed to do a good job in drilling manners into you it seems. Don’t worry about keeping them around me; I’m use to more blunt and boorish natures as it is.”
There was a flash of a grin before she turned her attention once more to the target before her. The bow raised and the arrow was nocked. Her fingers sheepishly gave it a second tug as she drew it back. She heard the words of the squire, and acted upon them. She flexed her fingers around the feathers, trying to lighten her hold on it whilst keeping it under control and most importantly to prevent it from wobbling. She straightened herself out, her form almost turning rigid as all of her focus was poured into the invisible line that would of lead her to the target. Her eyes narrowed down upon it, her arrow arm raising as it was pulled back.
Here goes nothing! she clenched her eyes shut and fired.

There was a loud twang as the arrow slid forward a few feet and landed on the ground with a resounding thud. She gave a blink and stared down at the floor, her brow creasing at it. There was silence, a moment set for deep contemplation, before she let out a laugh “Well that didn’t work. Just have to try again I guess.”
Reaching down she picked up the arrow and returned to her position. It was the process of learning, there was little she could do whilst learning, for the majority of it was left down to trial and error now. Her feet were planted firmly to the floor, her shoulders rolling back as she straightened herself out once more. Inhaling deeply the bow was brought up once more, and the arrow gingerly placed back.
Take it slow this time. No rush. No need to try and beat him. This isn’t a race after all, She inhaled deeply, her eyes focusing upon the point of the arrow once more What did I do wrong? Did I not pull it back enough? Or was the arrow not in place?

Her eyes slid down the arrow shaft and once more to the nock, her fingers feeling it and turning it slid into place against the bow string. She raised it once more, her feet shuffling into position and holding fast. Her lips pursed, the bow string being pulled back once more, with the arrow following shortly after. There she held it, arm trembling as the tendons felt the strain. It came level with her eye once more, her elbow right back this time, her eyes going down the length of the arrow and to the target before her.
“Take 2,” she murmured and released the arrow. It shot through the air, further this time, and came to a halt after imbedding itself into the ground between the targets. Her aim was off, she knew that, but it was progress- and progress was a sign of learning. All she had to do now was be able to repeat and practice, “Like that?”

[Alabast]

As the morning wore on Alabast became more weary of going down to retrieve his arrows. More squires and knights were coming to the shooting range and he decided it might be best from now on to wait until it was all clear rather than risk a stray arrow coming his way. A small devious smirk caught the sides of the young hunter's lips as he got an idea. He looked over to his new friend Fallon as her arrow fell short. Alabast pivoted slightly on the ball of his foot until he was at an angle facing the target directly in front of Fallon. He gripped his bow string and pulled it back until the arrow notched on it nearly touched the corners of his mischievous grin. He felt the fletchings between his three gloved fingers. His index gripped the arrow shaft from above, and his ring and middle fingers held it tight from below. His fingers were tight, but he was careful not to tensely lock his fingers into place, a difference one could feel in their phalanges. The expansion of his torso as he drew the bow back was accompanied by a flare of his nostrils and a sharp intake of air. For a moment, the world blurred. The target came cascading back into clarity, and sharp sternness bubbled to the surface of his face. He released the arrow. First the was the sound from the air filling his abdomen decompressing as he exhaled, and then the sound of the bow string smacking against his arm guard. Then there was the whoosh of the cloven air as the arrow drilled through space. Finally there was the dull sound of it embedding in the bale of hay, which it seemed to sprout from. It wasn't near the mark as he'd liked, but it wasn't too close to the edges of the target either. He laughed out loud. "Yeah" he joked, looking at his arrow that was lodged in the woman's target. "Just like that." He wasn't being malicious and the boyish grin on his face showed it. Fallon seemed like she was a little stressed by not immediately being as proficient as she wanted to, and that was young Alabast's best approximation of a joke.

[Fallon]

Fallon shot a look at the squire as he almost effortlessly drew back the arrow and fired it into her own target. Her lips pursed together, almost as if slightly annoyed for a brief instant, before once more it sunk down into a level sense of calm.
“Alright then show off,” she gave a snort and shook her head at him. She took an arrow, nocking it carefully. Fingers fumbled around it, as she got it into position. Her foot lined up with the target, back straightening as once more she raised it to point at the target. She gave a nervous tug back, carefully testing the string between her fingers. It was stretched out and relaxed several times, feeling the path that the string took as it relaxed. She looked at the unprotected arm, a light frown forming itself there before she pulled the arrow back by the fletchings.

Inhaling deeply the girl focused herself, eyes turning to the target as she found a state to centre herself on. Her chest expanded, lips opening as she exhaled and repeated the process. There was no rush, no need to make herself compete with the boy next to her. She lined herself up with the target, hearing the creak of the bow in her ear as she continued to hold the string and fixate upon her target. Her arms began to tremble with the strain, her eyes turning into narrow slits, before at last she let go.

The sound of the string cracking rang loudly in her ear, the arrow shooting forward in a mighty rush of air. She gave a gasp, followed by a hiss as the string sliced against her arm and a muffled groan. Her eyes widened slightly, a grunt escaping as she looked down upon her arm. The arrow though, had barely managed to lodge itself into the side of the target. The bow was lowered, her hand rubbing against her arm as she felt the pull of string against it.
“Do you have steel arms or something?” she asked as she looked up and down the archery range. Seeing as it was clear, she quickly darted towards the target and gathered up the arrows she had fired in its general direction “Or are you just immune to the string?”

[Alabast]

Alabast tossed his head back and a horse shoe of teeth showed as he laughed deeply from his chest. "Show off? Nah, just a- demonstration." He placed his arms over his chest with his bow still in hand, which he rested his chin on. A sharp intake of air brought in the post=dawn scents of the the training grounds. Sweat and salt and dew and grass filled the air. He honed in on the girl, watching her form closely, seeing her hesitation an unfamiliarity with the tool. He was far from an expert still, but other than a little timidity he didn't see anything too bad about how she was doing. He could smell, now, something different. She seemed nervous, so he guessed that might be it. He didn't quite understand, until she loosed the arrow and he heard a whimper following the bowstring's smack against her arm. His brows furrowed immediately as he followed the trajectory of the shaft to the target. He traced it again back to her and shook his head with a slight grin and chuckle as she remarked about the pain of the bow string. "Huh, well, I might have Isur on my dad's side, but, no." He slung his bow over his shoulder and the raised his forearm up for her to see. He took his arm guard off, moist as it was with sweat, and he tossed it to her. "But, for a lack of intermixing, an arm wrist guard might help. Sorry, I didn't notice you hadn't one on. With one of those and," he raised the three fingered glove on his other hand to show her "one of these, you don't have to be worried about getting hurt by your own tools." He was sure once Fallon had no fear of being hurt by her own bowstring that her accuracy would surely improve.

[Fallon]

Fallon looked at the arm guard that he wore before it was thrown at her. Her own bow clattered to the ground as she caught the leather and she looked at the glove that he wore on his hand for a tick. Turning over the arm guard she realised it was little more than a thin bracer that rested along the inside of her arm. Her fingers gave it a hesitant tug at the straps that would hold it in place. Placing it against the inside of her arm she held it there for a moment before giving a satisfied nod to the boy.

“It’s like a bracer. But smaller and less… armour-ish. Where can you get them?” she asked as she passed it back to him and sheepishly took up her bow. She gave the string a second test, a quick tug before her fingers explored the shaft and found a grip once more on it. Her feet went into position, taking up an L shape on the ground whilst her legs themselves bent slightly. Although she did not bring herself to aim, she still took in the effort to at least try and remember the correct footing to take. She felt the muscles tense and in her calf muscles as she held it unmoving and barely swaying. Footing and balance she quickly discovered, was just as important as being able to use the arms to pull back the string, and the use of eyes to aim. Shoulders rolled back, her posture turning straight as she held it there for a moment and realised her own discovery “legs are just as important as being to pull back the string. Gods it’s uncomfortable though.”

She winced and felt her legs twinge as she brought up the bow though no arrow. She practiced her form for the moment, gradually pulling back an invisible string her finger pointing towards the target before finally she ‘released’ her invisible arrow and sent it on its way. The squire licked her lips and looked down at her unprotected arm for a moment before taking up an arrow and continuing. She told herself it did not hurt too much, that not too much damage would be done by it, designed of course to lead her into a false sense of security. She giggled the arrow into place, took in a slow deep breath as she pulled it back and took aim. She stood there still for a moment; a firm frown upon her face as she tried to almost defiantly ignore the potential pain it would bring. The arrow was released, the string slicing forward after it and catching her arm.

This time Fallon could not help but let out a yelp of pain, and the bow once more was almost dropped to the floor. The arrow meanwhile landed short of the target and imbedded itself into the ground. Fingers rubbed at her arm before she turned to her observer.
“Remind me to get one of those,” she finally accepted “To save me a lot of grief.”
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