Even in the middle of the day, the Arena remained cloaked in semi-darkness. Of course, the only source of light in the basement space was from the flickering torches; many of which weren't light when the duels were not open. Very rarely, however, were all of the torches snuffed. Today, the few that brought light to the area cast long shadows off the form of the short redhead as she circled and danced in the middle of the ring, her hands curled around the black hilt of a gleaming white, curved blade. It was almost a daily ritual for her, the song of the blades whispering enticements to come join them.
Worry. An emotion long thought detached, it crept like kudzu in the open field, obscuring everything else. Out for a walk, Pslyder stopped at the door to the Arena and, on a whim, pushed it open. He stood there at the landing, watching.
She let the turn come to a natural end, bowing toward an invisible opponent before shifting to face the new entrant. "Hello, love," she called in a volume intended to carry across the echoing space. The words held warmth, yes, but there was a distance borne of her current obsession. "What brings you down here?"
The mental shift in attitude took a moment. She knew, he didn't have to pretend. ?Out and about on a walk.? Boots thumped on the stairs as he descended. ?Still practicing, I see.?
"Always," she answered with a curt nod. After a moment, though, she attempted to soften it with a wry smile. "I can't help it. Something about this place calls me." Nevermind she did practice in other places; she just preferred this space. "I could use a drink, though. You?"
He nodded and turned to the bar, being closer. Details didn't escape him. In his old life, missing a detail meant Johnson had you by the short and scruffies. ?New blade?? His left hand tensing, clenched and unclenched. Bottle of water first, then a tankard.
Jaycy sheathed her weapon and stepped from the ring, padding toward him and the bar. "Aye, and mayhaps we should talk about it." Steps swiftly took her to her destination and she graced him with another of her faint smiles. "Are you alright?" Details, indeed. She?d noticed the hand's clench.
?Still aches, from time to time.? False modesty, of a sort. He dredged up a smile in answer. ?What's to talk about it? Seems good that you're branching out to new weapons too.?
She curved fingers around the bottle of water, simultaneously pulling it closer while easing up onto a stool. A thin sheen of sweat showed how long and how intense her workout had been, and the healthy gulp showed her appreciation of his thoughtfulness. Only after she swallowed did she respond. "Do you know anything about dragonslayer weapons?"
He took a white knuckle grip on the tankard, the wood creaking from the sudden strain. ?Some. Did a bit of research after. . .that attack.?
"Obviously, that's what hurt you." She hadn't known before, so she assumed he didn't either. Her brows furrowed even while they conversed, gaze focusing on the tankard. "Psly? Are you alright?" Green-gold eyes peered from tankard to his face, frown deepening with the concern at his sudden seeming worsening.
With exaggerated care, he put the tankard down on the bar. ?Coming from the turmoil of the UCAS, you'd think I would've gotten a grip on my own sense of mortality by now. Guess I still don't like being reminded of it.? Two and two made four, logic wasn't a stranger to him. ?That's what that is, I'm guessing.?
"Aye...." she slowly agreed. Finally, though, her face cleared as she put some two and two together. A quick jump from her stool took her on her way across the room to unsheathe and deposit the blade in the sands of a far ring, at least temporarily, before making her way back toward him with another frown. "Was mine doing that to you?"
?Phantom limb syndrome. Or something like that. Residual ache.? Forcing down the tremble, he brought up the tankard again and took a long gulp. ?Used to have that all the time, back when they weren't flesh and blood.? The old days, when he was a walking swiss-army knife. ?Felt like they were burning sometimes, when I'd wake up. Took a couple years to get used to it enough to not wake the neighbors.?
"Is this better?" she asked, indicating the weapon's distance from the pair of them.
Two and two made four, which progressed further into eight, sixteen, and thirty-two. Much like her blocks of solid mental walls, a knot of unreadable conclusion sprang to being in his mind. ?Yeah. Now that I know it's there.?
"I'm sorry, love. I didn't realize it would cause these types of problems for you." Contrite, she slid onto the stool once more, cheeks flushed. "I knew I needed to tell you about it so you didn't accidentally hurt yourself with it, but I didn't know it could cause...." She trailed off, waving a hand in his general direction.
He shook his head slightly. ?Neither did I. And thanks. I'd rather not go looking at it, and wind up losing a finger because I did something stupid.? Or worse.
Worry. An emotion long thought detached, it crept like kudzu in the open field, obscuring everything else. Out for a walk, Pslyder stopped at the door to the Arena and, on a whim, pushed it open. He stood there at the landing, watching.
She let the turn come to a natural end, bowing toward an invisible opponent before shifting to face the new entrant. "Hello, love," she called in a volume intended to carry across the echoing space. The words held warmth, yes, but there was a distance borne of her current obsession. "What brings you down here?"
The mental shift in attitude took a moment. She knew, he didn't have to pretend. ?Out and about on a walk.? Boots thumped on the stairs as he descended. ?Still practicing, I see.?
"Always," she answered with a curt nod. After a moment, though, she attempted to soften it with a wry smile. "I can't help it. Something about this place calls me." Nevermind she did practice in other places; she just preferred this space. "I could use a drink, though. You?"
He nodded and turned to the bar, being closer. Details didn't escape him. In his old life, missing a detail meant Johnson had you by the short and scruffies. ?New blade?? His left hand tensing, clenched and unclenched. Bottle of water first, then a tankard.
Jaycy sheathed her weapon and stepped from the ring, padding toward him and the bar. "Aye, and mayhaps we should talk about it." Steps swiftly took her to her destination and she graced him with another of her faint smiles. "Are you alright?" Details, indeed. She?d noticed the hand's clench.
?Still aches, from time to time.? False modesty, of a sort. He dredged up a smile in answer. ?What's to talk about it? Seems good that you're branching out to new weapons too.?
She curved fingers around the bottle of water, simultaneously pulling it closer while easing up onto a stool. A thin sheen of sweat showed how long and how intense her workout had been, and the healthy gulp showed her appreciation of his thoughtfulness. Only after she swallowed did she respond. "Do you know anything about dragonslayer weapons?"
He took a white knuckle grip on the tankard, the wood creaking from the sudden strain. ?Some. Did a bit of research after. . .that attack.?
"Obviously, that's what hurt you." She hadn't known before, so she assumed he didn't either. Her brows furrowed even while they conversed, gaze focusing on the tankard. "Psly? Are you alright?" Green-gold eyes peered from tankard to his face, frown deepening with the concern at his sudden seeming worsening.
With exaggerated care, he put the tankard down on the bar. ?Coming from the turmoil of the UCAS, you'd think I would've gotten a grip on my own sense of mortality by now. Guess I still don't like being reminded of it.? Two and two made four, logic wasn't a stranger to him. ?That's what that is, I'm guessing.?
"Aye...." she slowly agreed. Finally, though, her face cleared as she put some two and two together. A quick jump from her stool took her on her way across the room to unsheathe and deposit the blade in the sands of a far ring, at least temporarily, before making her way back toward him with another frown. "Was mine doing that to you?"
?Phantom limb syndrome. Or something like that. Residual ache.? Forcing down the tremble, he brought up the tankard again and took a long gulp. ?Used to have that all the time, back when they weren't flesh and blood.? The old days, when he was a walking swiss-army knife. ?Felt like they were burning sometimes, when I'd wake up. Took a couple years to get used to it enough to not wake the neighbors.?
"Is this better?" she asked, indicating the weapon's distance from the pair of them.
Two and two made four, which progressed further into eight, sixteen, and thirty-two. Much like her blocks of solid mental walls, a knot of unreadable conclusion sprang to being in his mind. ?Yeah. Now that I know it's there.?
"I'm sorry, love. I didn't realize it would cause these types of problems for you." Contrite, she slid onto the stool once more, cheeks flushed. "I knew I needed to tell you about it so you didn't accidentally hurt yourself with it, but I didn't know it could cause...." She trailed off, waving a hand in his general direction.
He shook his head slightly. ?Neither did I. And thanks. I'd rather not go looking at it, and wind up losing a finger because I did something stupid.? Or worse.