Closed Tentative ground (Yomilla)

[Reed]

They were falling away from each other now with the grapple broken. He slid hard down on one knee as she rolled onto her back. Reflexively, his arms came up but then his mind caught up, and they relaxed at his sides. Watching the other squire sort herself, he slowly caught his breath. The buckler and short sword were like lead weights in his hands though he knew if he let them go now, he was not likely to be able to pick them up again.

Grinding his teeth together, he clenched his fingers around the armaments as he slowly came to his feet. He swayed a moment as he stood, his heart still beating hard in his chest. This last bout would be like swimming through sand though he was determined to make a go of it. Apparently, so was the squire as he responded in kind to his suggestion.

"Suppose we could get the ale in a bowl." He laughed, and it felt good to release some of that tension, even if it was with a stranger. Extending his arm out fully to his side, he felt the tip of his short sword scrape against the ground to dig a small furrow in the grey surface. Looking down, Reed noticced for the first time that they had churned up a lot of the rocky soil in their spar so far. It made him feel oddly proud of their performance.

Fending off the strike proved to be more awkward than he anticipated. He hadn't expected her to shift to the left so there was no time to turn into the strike with his buckler. Instead he heaved across with his short sword to slap against her blade, taking some of the strength away as their hilts crossed and the tip of her broadsword tapped against his shoulder plate. Breathing hard he didn't have the strength to disengage just yet from the entanglement.

She did, continuing with the momentum of her strike to spin around. His sword hung in its upraised position awkwardly there for a moment as he drifted forward in her wake. He might have struck then while her back was turned but the muscles in his arm were not responding in a reassuring way. It was taking all he had just to keep it in this upraised position and he had a feeling he needed it there to meet the next strike. An he was right, at least partially. Her sword came up and it was a matter of gravity to let the sword fall in an arch down to meet hers. There was a loud clang as they briefly gripped each other, and then his grip slipped. The short sword slipped off of the broadsword to fall onto the ground. Reed reactively reached for the sword before stopping himself. His head swiveled slowly to look at her helmet before he begrudgingly offered a small nod.

"Suppose I'm buying the bowls then." He said out of breath, and then knelt slowly onto the ground to grasp his sword. His fingers tightened around the hilt an then guided the blade into his scabbard. The relief he felt along his forearm was almost sweet as the blade cinched home if it hadn't been for the armor that still slung to his body. Reed started flexing his fingers as he stood up, pushing blood into the digits to get some feeling into them.

"I can't wait to get out of this armor." He muttered in a low voice, then continued in a normal tone of voice. "I really know of only one place to drink, and thats because its near my apartment so I hope you are patial to the Rearing Stallion." He said as he paced around a few times to get his body to a relaxed state. Once his heart had stopped thundering in his chest and his breathing had calmed, he took off his helmet. The air felt cool against his damp scalp. Reed almost closed his eyes to revel in it but then he remembered his present company.

"I can lead the way if you wish."

[Yomila]

Luck.

There was nothing else to describe what happened next. It was luck. Pure luck.

Luck that he had not struck her when her back was turned.

Luck that he was too fatigued to strike her down when all she had was her sword for defence.

Luck that she had thought to grip her broadsword with both hands before he swung his own towards hers.

Her black eyes held the line of the arc his blade had made, watching it in slow motion as it came to meet her own and every muscle in her body tensed, bracing for the impact. They flashed, screamed and protested but she held and ground her teeth to dust.

Another grunt came as the steel rang and she shifted her weight forward into the connection, shut her eyes tight as it reverberated through her exhausted arms. She stumbled forward a step once the resistance gave way.

Eyes flashed open. Flicked to him. Found him unarmed and bending to reach for his sword.

Her own wavered in the air, returned to her main hand as the other was outstretched at her side, gripping at the air for balance. She found her feet beneath her and straightened, ignoring the protest of her back against the weight of her armor, and grinned as a rush of shocked excitement and pure pleasure filled her. Joy. Happiness.

Her body hummed with it.

And then sagged and she huffed out a pleasant sigh.

She smiled at him through her helm and returned the nod, following suit with her movements. Her broadsword slipped smoothly into its scabbard, urged home with a final shove. The Ethaefal then gave her arms a similar shake and rotated her wrists one way and then the other to try and get them to loose as her eyes located her shield.

Yomila pulled her helm off as he spoke and chuckled as she regarded him with a quick glance. She said, "Maybe we can convince the barmaids to let us lay beneath the taps." Stray hair was plastered to her sweaty cheeks and forehead and she unsuccessfully pushed at them with the plate on the back of her forearm and then her palm.

She reached her shield and hesitated, frowning at it. Tucking her helm under her arm, she toed at an edge of the shield, trying to tilt it up. She hummed loudly in agreement as he spoke of changing out of his armor and finally bent to haul the heavy shield up. She turned and moved it for emphasis as she replied, "I can't wait to get rid of this." There was a grin in her voice. It was evident she valued and appreciated her arms and armor.. no matter how cumbersome they could be. It had saved her skin numerous times today and she was grateful.

"I have no preference," was all she offered as he explained himself.

The Ethaefal openly examined him once he had removed his own helm; she wasn't sure what she was expecting but the magenta colored face was not what her mind had conjured up. It was hypocritical of her to stare so openly, to take a moment to rearrange her thoughts of him, reimagine the squire she had just exchanged a fierce and exhausting spar with, but she did so without any hesitation or malice. Her eyes bold and unwavering. He wasn't human; he was something she recognised from her past but couldn't put a name to.

Finally she nodded at the invitation, appreciation that he thought to ask rather than just assuming the lead. She let her movements act as her assent as she stepped towards him, body language plain that she had no disagreement and would follow.

"The best techniques are passed on by the survivors."