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Entry tags:
16
Who: Walter and anyone
Where: Forest
When: 25th, morning
Style: Either
Status: Open
[He'd woken up and promptly left, leaving the tunic behind in exchange for his shirt.
Walter doesn't quite make it as far in the forest quadrant as usual before he finds a fairly unused clearing (so the undisturbed patches of grass tell him). His march coming to a gradual close, he gives the area a quick once-over. Then he exhales, and pivots on his heel to kick out with his dominant leg in a wide arc.
He's been asleep too long; he can feel it in how his movement is clumsier without his eres than it should be. At the very least, there's little in the way of muscle soreness despite the prolonged period of rest, but he won't consider that an excuse to let his performance deteriorate. A curse must have taken place when he was dormant, and he's not interested in the details: Working out the laziness (among other things) is a priority.
A series of kicks, then a deep right hook, then another kick—then his fingernails flash a dark blue, and the next punch comes even harder than the first. Just as quickly, the light dissipates and his strength falls considerably to a more ordinary level. Soon enough, he's worked up to the familiar sting of climbing exhaustion and takes that moment to stop abruptly.
Assuming a noncombat stance, Walter extends an upturned hand. His nails flash again, and this time a black light gathers together to form a small creature (with a more bat-like appearance) of the same color. It flutters about, shedding dark purple flecks of light. And so everything seems to be in order . . .
Still as the ground beneath him, Walter appraises it in silence, his expression impassive.]
Where: Forest
When: 25th, morning
Style: Either
Status: Open
[He'd woken up and promptly left, leaving the tunic behind in exchange for his shirt.
Walter doesn't quite make it as far in the forest quadrant as usual before he finds a fairly unused clearing (so the undisturbed patches of grass tell him). His march coming to a gradual close, he gives the area a quick once-over. Then he exhales, and pivots on his heel to kick out with his dominant leg in a wide arc.
He's been asleep too long; he can feel it in how his movement is clumsier without his eres than it should be. At the very least, there's little in the way of muscle soreness despite the prolonged period of rest, but he won't consider that an excuse to let his performance deteriorate. A curse must have taken place when he was dormant, and he's not interested in the details: Working out the laziness (among other things) is a priority.
A series of kicks, then a deep right hook, then another kick—then his fingernails flash a dark blue, and the next punch comes even harder than the first. Just as quickly, the light dissipates and his strength falls considerably to a more ordinary level. Soon enough, he's worked up to the familiar sting of climbing exhaustion and takes that moment to stop abruptly.
Assuming a noncombat stance, Walter extends an upturned hand. His nails flash again, and this time a black light gathers together to form a small creature (with a more bat-like appearance) of the same color. It flutters about, shedding dark purple flecks of light. And so everything seems to be in order . . .
Still as the ground beneath him, Walter appraises it in silence, his expression impassive.]
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I wonder how much longer we'll have to wait for another curse...
[Hopefully she'll pick up this conversation!]
Maybe because it was so long, we won't have another one anytime soon?
[Still awkward]
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Things should be quieting now that it's over. That seems to be the pattern revolving around this time of the year. Unless something were to interfere with the coral's stabilization . . .
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[The last thing she wanted was another curse. The last thing she wanted right now was everyone to get hurt once more.
Speaking of which, she took a small step forward.]
Um...are you going to continue fighting? Because I'm worried about the injury on your head...
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[Why was everyone insisting on bringing up his head? Even if he'd hit it, he didn't feel anything anymore.]
There isn't one. It must have healed during the coma.
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[Don't mind Shirley motherhening you]
Are you sure you're okay? And um...the injures you might have from hitting the trees...
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[Despite their flippancy, the words were said carefully and gently. His hands had some redness to them, but the friction was inevitable, and he was used to the exercise. It was the same as any other training session.]
It doesn't hurt.
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[There was a mumble before she looked at his hands. Yes, he was use to training but it doesn't mean that she was going to turn a blind eye on it. Despite his words, Shirley's fingernails were glowing.]
Wouldn't they bleed?
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I've trained for years. They won't bleed from this.
[Not anymore. The skin around his knuckles was testimony to the physical labor; it was hard and leathery rather than soft, easily built to prevent scratches and bleeding.]
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[She said before lowering her arm to the side. There was a small mumble before she was scratching to the side of her face. Well...now what?]
Then...do you need a sparring partner then?
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No.
[Because clearly she was offering, and he wasn't about to allow that.]
I'm accustomed to doing this on my own.
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But it seems like you were fighting the trees...so I thought it would be a good way to train together.
[Pause]
And it would be nice to see where our skills have gone right now.
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His gut response was to bring up his duty; he clamped down on the word.]
You shouldn't have to fight, Merines.
[Because he was there.
But he couldn't keep the title from slipping out.]
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However, as much as she wanted to, she knew what Walter's response was.]
What if I wanted to?
[She remembered Zelos words. She could have the potential to do whatever she wanted but at the same time, she didn't want to abuse her 'powers' onto him either. The last time she did that, it...was not fun.
...And let's not tell him about that quest she went on.]
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If you wanted to . . .
If that is what you wish, then of course.
[He supposed that applied to the spar she'd proposed.]
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Um...o-okay then, better get ready?
[With that, there was a small glowing circle forming around her. Better get ready, she's casting some fireballs!]
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Walter didn't dwell much on these thoughts. His instincts bid him as much, however, and bending his knees he only launched his teriques to deflect the fireballs. The black creature met the flames head on and dissipated upon contact, vanquishing the powerful flames with it.
He landed with the slight tap of his boots on dirt, and then awaited the next move.
At the same time, what to do . . . ]
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In a lot of ways, it was strange to 'fight' against Walter like this. It felt like she was on equal terms with him and that they could be friends. As much as she would like to think about this, she knew that once this was over, it would not chance anything.]
Ice Wall!
[Although right now, Shirley was hesitating herself. She didn't want to cast some of her other heavy damaging spells.]
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A part of him froze on the earth, unwilling to retaliate in spite of this being a spar; another bid him to make a move as a way of paying respect to the Merines. She was strong—probably stronger than him.
But when he struck a hand out in perhaps a sudden attempt to cast eres, he froze again.
He couldn't do it, after all.]
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She could tell that her artes were still as strong as ever despite the lack of training. However, it only reminded her of who she was. She was still the Merines and she was stronger then Walter. It was a sad fact but she would like to see how strong he was...]
...Do you want me to heal you?
[The most she can do is to help her guardian on reflexes. If he doesn't want to fight, she won't continue.]
I didn't hurt you too badly right?
[Her attempt at trying to close the gap only worsen. The tension only grew.]
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[On both accounts.
Walter shook his head while lowering his hand. He resumed a normal position. Then he waited—for her response, and whether or not his inaction convinced her that "sparring" with him wasn't worth it.
It had seemed simple enough to accept the wish and comply before it started; but then it had, and he found that he was paralyzed with conflicting feelings.
His expression was fairly impassive, though he was well on the verge of glowering at himself.]
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[Shirley said before lowering her head to look to the side. Despite her awkward attempts to close the gap, she was still wishing to get a chance to 'spar' with him once again. It was once of those times that she wished she wasn't the Merines.
Shirley found herself at a standstill. Did she make the wrong move because of her impulsiveness? As a result, Walter seemed a bit...]
Um...is everything okay, Walter?
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[She already knew at this point, but he knew better than to leave things hanging. And the conversation was barely moving, so he would end that particular topic with this.]
Merines. I cannot spar with you.
And I just keep on spamming you...
[There was not much she could do. "Now what?" She thought. Anything she could say might make things be at a stalemate once more.]
Um...Walter, do you remember our conversation a while ago? I wanted to ask...
Do you...want to be my friend?
And I just keep on being a turtle, alas.
[It had only taken that bit of pause for him to respond, all low and frank, because Walter knew in his heart that what she asked wasn't to be. All the same, he was perturbed by the offer — he didn't want to be asked that.
He didn't want to be that.]
But being slow is good!
I see... [She said as she focused her attention to the ground. This was it, this would be the last time she would ask that question to him. He knew where he stood and that was fine for Shirley, she knew where she stood as well.]
Then...what do you want to do?
oh really
Yes really!
I took those words to heart.
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