The day's practice was going well.
Once more, Lady Marceline found herself in the practice yard, rapier in hand and across from Zahra. However, today they had an additional student in their presence. On the other side of Zahra, Lady Félicité stood with a rapier of her own in hand. To the young woman's credit, Mathis did not send her to Skyhold completely unprepared, but it was clear that the woman never had been in a true fight nor perhaps even had a reason to be in one. Marceline could see it in her pace and movements. There was slow hesitation where there should be none, her thrusts were far too measured and predictable, both evidence of a practice regimen that did not expect to be utilized. It was a base, however, and something that could be built off of.
Zahra was a different story. She was growing, in both technique and speed. She'd come a long way from the woman who came to her with a decorative blade. Even Marceline had to admit her progress had made her proud-- though wisely, she would perhaps keep that knowledge to herself. There was no telling what the good Captain would do with that information, and she would prefer to keep all the ammunition she could out of her quiver, so to speak.
"You must be more decisive, Félicité," Marceline coached, "If someone wishes to do you harm, they will not wait patiently for you to act first, agreed Captain?"
Off a little to their side, Pierre watched the practice with great interest. Lady Marceline was not in charge of his self defense training, that honor fell to her husband. Their styles were exceptionally different and she felt for the child. Michaël didn't pull any punches, but regardless he was a fine teacher, and his style suited Pierre far better than hers. Though not a chevalier yet, it was clear that once he grew into his body, he would have the size of one. Even now, he was nearly her height and would soon surpass her in another year. However, for now, he sat curiously as he watched the practice, resting his chin on a crossguard of his own sheathed blade.
âRight,â Zahra hummed her assent. Sweat had already begun beading her brow. While sheâd grown in leaps and bounds under Marcelineâs tutelage, particularly compared to the poor performance in the beginning of her lessons, her endurance⊠left a little to be desired. If the enemy could be felled quickly, there wasnât any doubt sheâd come out breathing. Facing someone who could parry her swings, and dance around with the intention of tiring her out? Sheâd be a puddle exhaustion; hands planted on knees, exposed neck begging to be cut into.
She stepped in beside FĂ©licitĂ© and patted her shoulder, eyeing her feet curiously. Manners, of course, were always optional for Riptideâs captain. If she understood who, or which family, the young woman belonged to, she certainly wasnât showing it. It was doubtful, anyhow. She swept her rapier in front of them, eyes alight. âGotta pretend like itâs real, kidâsomeoneâs trying to end your life. Would you let them?â A rattling laugh sounded as she pointed the blade towards the sky, swirled it into a circle, before dropping it back to her side.
âEverything is a battle. Even lessons,â she stated over her shoulder, eyebrow raising a fraction, âAn example, perhaps?â Her track record against Marceline was laughable. A number she admitted under her breath, rather than aloud. Twenty? One of them may have conveniently forgotten. Either way, she seemed to enjoy their sparring sessions, even if she was the one who ended up in the dirt.
"Try not to go too fast," Pierre called from the side, "Félicité cannot learn anything if you are going too fast to see!" he noted, followed by grin pointed toward the young woman herself. Marceline had seen that same grin plastered to Michaël's maw... It appeared as if their son was learning more from him than just self defense. Félicité for her part only laughed in response and nodded in agreement.
"Yes, if you do not mind, Lady Marceline?" she added.
Marceline shook her head, but she could not shake the smile. "Of course, I will try. Captain?" she called, raising her practice rapier so that it was parallel to the ground. She never was the first to move in these practices, nor did she intend to be the first.
Zahraâs grin only brightened. If she was anything, she was persistent as hell. It showed in her technique, or lack thereof. She lacked Marcelineâs proprietary patience, her caution and discipline. Many things, actually. She operated with a devil-may-care attitude and squashed caution under her boots, instead of throwing it to the wind. She did not, however, hesitate. Ever. Neither did she wait for the other person to strike first.
An awful habit that usually had consequences.
She scuffed the ground with her boot and rounded her blade in front of her, mimicking Marcelineâs stance. Hers, while decent, had obvious flaws; chinks that could be taken advantage of. At times, it was a ruse. Difficult to tell with someone like her. There was a slight bow of her head. As good as any indication that the match would begin. She advanced at a decent pace. Not quite runningâperhaps, because that wouldâve ended the match rather quickly. As soon as she closed the distance, her wild eyes widened, and she lunged, swinging for Marcelineâs hip.
Marceline stepped backward in anticipation of the lunge. Now with a wider view of Zahra and her maneuver Marceline deftly countered, her own rapier fluttering to her side in an attempt to bat away the swing. Had she been equipped with her main-gauche, she would've then retaken the step and gone on the offensive with the dagger, but as it was a practice, and she was without the implement, she simply took another step back and reset her position to wait for a more opportune moment to strike.
"Always watch your opponent," she added, for Félicité's benefit, her own eyes never leaving Zahra.
Bat away it did. Marcelineâs swift movement kept Zahraâs momentum flowing past her. It appeared as if it had taken her a moment to realize that she had to turn on her heels, in order to keep her flank from being exposed. The wry grin hadnât left her lips, though she looked momentarily embarrassed as she circled around. She kept a relatively lax hold on her blade, until she licked her lips, and lunged again. This time, she aimed higher. Towards her shoulders.
From the way she angled her feet, it appeared as if she were anticipating to throw her weight to the side, afterwards. Perhaps, to level another strike to her opposing side.
She didn't throw herself out of range this time, Marceline would never be able to press an offensive if she always acted on defense. The longer the fight drew out, the more mistakes the opponent could potentially make, yes, but the same could be said for her. It was a delicate line to keep in balance, one that a single misstep could throw out of balance. It was unlike the Game in that regard.
Marceline dropped into a crouch, Zahra's blade whistling over her head, and from her low position struck upward with her own rapier. The move left Zahra in a more favorable position from above, but it also painted Marceline as a smaller target that she could protect. Give and take, as it were.
Though Marcelineâs crouch had left Zahra in a better position, sheâd been forced on the defensive, bringing the training rapier to deflect her strike in a less graceful manner. It appeared as if it had been an instinctive move, rather than one sheâd been expecting to make. As clever as she could be, her style lacked the finesse of a chess board. She operated in equal measures of pure instinct and dumb luckâwhich was apparent with all the scars sheâd acquired as of late, still managing to walk among them with little more than a grimace, and frequent trips to Asalaâs clinic.
She took two steps back with a huff and grinned wide, eyeing Marceline through a lidded gaze. For all intents and purposes, it appeared as if Zahra were enjoying herself, which wasnât all too surprising given that sheâd always tried to weasel out of her studies in order to spar and practice. She couldâve learned a thing or two from FĂ©licitĂ©âs measured, concise movements. Hers were made of wild things. She swayed to the side, then the other, before attempting to circle around and level another strike from above, a wild aim that seemed to have no particular direction.
Zahra's steps backward allowed Marceline enough time to rise back onto her feet, her stance reset. She eyed her opponent cautiously and when she circled, pivoted on her heels to follow her. When the blade came down, Marceline foot slid back, not to escape, but to brace herself. She caught the blade and its wild aim with her own, and let it slide all the way to the crossguard. She twisted her wrist to try and get a better hold and then attempted to swing both blades into a wide circle in front of them to try and dislodge Zahra's blade from her hand.
From the widening of Zahraâs eyes, she hadnât expected the slender pommel to twist from her grasp. It was clear that sheâd been trying to wrest it in her grip, or at least keep it in hand, but Marceline had been too quick to allow any such attempt. Now weaponless, and in close proximity, it appeared as if she wasnât prepared to end the match just yet.
Another huff sounded. An intake of air, before there was a flurry of movement as her rapier spun through the air towards Pierre. She ducked her head and lurched forward in a brazen attempt to tackle her to the ground and keep her from leveling her blade at her throat in an obvious checkmate.
Marceline's attention was drawn away from the fight only for a moment, her eyes following the flight path of the rapier toward her son. However, she was not able to see where the weapon had landed, as a heavy force slammed into her and she felt the sensation of falling before coming to a sudden, and somewhat painful stop. A soft grunt was the only thing she could say as she lay on her back on the ground.
As soon as Marceline thumped on the ground, and their momentum halted, the weight lifted from her. Zahra peered down from her vantage point, chest rising from the exertion of such a maneuver. âWhat happened⊠to watching your opponent?â A small, innocuous jibe. Breathless. One that couldnât possibly be held in. A somewhat sheepish grin splayed across her lips as she rolled off and rose back to her feet, offering one of her hands.
She glanced sidelong and arched one of her eyebrows. Her smile wobbled a fraction. The smallest sign of concern rising as soon as the dust was settling at their feet, âNo one hurt, ya?â
Marceline's gaze also darted over to the side. Pierre looked a little stunned, the sheath of his own sword held out across him, and Zahra's sword on the ground in front. Even at that distance, she could see the cracks etching across the scabbard, undoubtedly where he had fended off the flying sword. He spared a glance at it once more before looking back up at Zahra and giving her the thumbs up. "Fine, just fine. Just surprised is all. I was not expecting to be a part of the lesson, honestly," he said with a laugh. Zahra made a noise of approval. More a whoop, when she noted Pierreâs quick deflection.
Lady Félicité was by his side in the next moment, as if to ensure that he was really alright. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Luckily I was watching," he joked at his mother's expense. "I will just need a new sheath," he noted, peeling the splinters off of it.
Once she was sure Pierre was fine, Marceline finally accepted the Zahra's hand and pulled herself off. Fortunately, the only thing injured was her pride. As much as she wanted push the blame off somewhere else, the fact remained. She lost focus for a moment, and it was in that moment that she had lost. She brushed the dust off of her and nodded. "And now you see what happens when you take your eyes off of your opponent," she stated, "Even for a moment." She frowned when she looked at Zahra, but it did not last long before shifting into a smile.
If Zahraâs beaming smile was anything to go by, sheâd be remembering this particular sparring match for ages to come. Even if it was won by less than honorable means, it was still her first victory. She took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, planting her hands on her hips. Whether she was being mindful or not, she didnât rub it in Marcelineâs face.
Perhaps, she was saving that for later.
âI must say, your boyâs got reflexes,â she noted with a grin, and nodded her head, âmaybe he should watch all our sparring matches.â As if by him being present, sheâd have more chances at upping her tally. An unlikely gamble. She rubbed at the back of her neck and watched as Pierre picked at the slivers of wood cracked across his scabbard, âHope that wasnât⊠uh, a gift. Or anything.â She glanced back at Marceline, as if to confirm.
Marceline shook her head, but Pierre answered. "No, nothing of the sort," he answered, partially drawing the blade to reveal an ordinary blunted practice blade, "It is just the one I use to practice with father." He then let it slide back into its sheath and stood, snatching Zahra's blade off the ground as he did.
"Micky does fine work," Lady Marceline noted. Pierre then handed Lady Félicité his own blade to hold for a moment to cross the distance between him and the two of them, giving her rapier a few practice swings before offering it to her, pommel first.
"Next time, I'll watch from behind a wall or something," he added with a grin.
"That would be... prudent, yes," Marceline agreed.
Once more, Lady Marceline found herself in the practice yard, rapier in hand and across from Zahra. However, today they had an additional student in their presence. On the other side of Zahra, Lady Félicité stood with a rapier of her own in hand. To the young woman's credit, Mathis did not send her to Skyhold completely unprepared, but it was clear that the woman never had been in a true fight nor perhaps even had a reason to be in one. Marceline could see it in her pace and movements. There was slow hesitation where there should be none, her thrusts were far too measured and predictable, both evidence of a practice regimen that did not expect to be utilized. It was a base, however, and something that could be built off of.
Zahra was a different story. She was growing, in both technique and speed. She'd come a long way from the woman who came to her with a decorative blade. Even Marceline had to admit her progress had made her proud-- though wisely, she would perhaps keep that knowledge to herself. There was no telling what the good Captain would do with that information, and she would prefer to keep all the ammunition she could out of her quiver, so to speak.
"You must be more decisive, Félicité," Marceline coached, "If someone wishes to do you harm, they will not wait patiently for you to act first, agreed Captain?"
Off a little to their side, Pierre watched the practice with great interest. Lady Marceline was not in charge of his self defense training, that honor fell to her husband. Their styles were exceptionally different and she felt for the child. Michaël didn't pull any punches, but regardless he was a fine teacher, and his style suited Pierre far better than hers. Though not a chevalier yet, it was clear that once he grew into his body, he would have the size of one. Even now, he was nearly her height and would soon surpass her in another year. However, for now, he sat curiously as he watched the practice, resting his chin on a crossguard of his own sheathed blade.
âRight,â Zahra hummed her assent. Sweat had already begun beading her brow. While sheâd grown in leaps and bounds under Marcelineâs tutelage, particularly compared to the poor performance in the beginning of her lessons, her endurance⊠left a little to be desired. If the enemy could be felled quickly, there wasnât any doubt sheâd come out breathing. Facing someone who could parry her swings, and dance around with the intention of tiring her out? Sheâd be a puddle exhaustion; hands planted on knees, exposed neck begging to be cut into.
She stepped in beside FĂ©licitĂ© and patted her shoulder, eyeing her feet curiously. Manners, of course, were always optional for Riptideâs captain. If she understood who, or which family, the young woman belonged to, she certainly wasnât showing it. It was doubtful, anyhow. She swept her rapier in front of them, eyes alight. âGotta pretend like itâs real, kidâsomeoneâs trying to end your life. Would you let them?â A rattling laugh sounded as she pointed the blade towards the sky, swirled it into a circle, before dropping it back to her side.
âEverything is a battle. Even lessons,â she stated over her shoulder, eyebrow raising a fraction, âAn example, perhaps?â Her track record against Marceline was laughable. A number she admitted under her breath, rather than aloud. Twenty? One of them may have conveniently forgotten. Either way, she seemed to enjoy their sparring sessions, even if she was the one who ended up in the dirt.
"Try not to go too fast," Pierre called from the side, "Félicité cannot learn anything if you are going too fast to see!" he noted, followed by grin pointed toward the young woman herself. Marceline had seen that same grin plastered to Michaël's maw... It appeared as if their son was learning more from him than just self defense. Félicité for her part only laughed in response and nodded in agreement.
"Yes, if you do not mind, Lady Marceline?" she added.
Marceline shook her head, but she could not shake the smile. "Of course, I will try. Captain?" she called, raising her practice rapier so that it was parallel to the ground. She never was the first to move in these practices, nor did she intend to be the first.
Zahraâs grin only brightened. If she was anything, she was persistent as hell. It showed in her technique, or lack thereof. She lacked Marcelineâs proprietary patience, her caution and discipline. Many things, actually. She operated with a devil-may-care attitude and squashed caution under her boots, instead of throwing it to the wind. She did not, however, hesitate. Ever. Neither did she wait for the other person to strike first.
An awful habit that usually had consequences.
She scuffed the ground with her boot and rounded her blade in front of her, mimicking Marcelineâs stance. Hers, while decent, had obvious flaws; chinks that could be taken advantage of. At times, it was a ruse. Difficult to tell with someone like her. There was a slight bow of her head. As good as any indication that the match would begin. She advanced at a decent pace. Not quite runningâperhaps, because that wouldâve ended the match rather quickly. As soon as she closed the distance, her wild eyes widened, and she lunged, swinging for Marcelineâs hip.
Marceline stepped backward in anticipation of the lunge. Now with a wider view of Zahra and her maneuver Marceline deftly countered, her own rapier fluttering to her side in an attempt to bat away the swing. Had she been equipped with her main-gauche, she would've then retaken the step and gone on the offensive with the dagger, but as it was a practice, and she was without the implement, she simply took another step back and reset her position to wait for a more opportune moment to strike.
"Always watch your opponent," she added, for Félicité's benefit, her own eyes never leaving Zahra.
Bat away it did. Marcelineâs swift movement kept Zahraâs momentum flowing past her. It appeared as if it had taken her a moment to realize that she had to turn on her heels, in order to keep her flank from being exposed. The wry grin hadnât left her lips, though she looked momentarily embarrassed as she circled around. She kept a relatively lax hold on her blade, until she licked her lips, and lunged again. This time, she aimed higher. Towards her shoulders.
From the way she angled her feet, it appeared as if she were anticipating to throw her weight to the side, afterwards. Perhaps, to level another strike to her opposing side.
She didn't throw herself out of range this time, Marceline would never be able to press an offensive if she always acted on defense. The longer the fight drew out, the more mistakes the opponent could potentially make, yes, but the same could be said for her. It was a delicate line to keep in balance, one that a single misstep could throw out of balance. It was unlike the Game in that regard.
Marceline dropped into a crouch, Zahra's blade whistling over her head, and from her low position struck upward with her own rapier. The move left Zahra in a more favorable position from above, but it also painted Marceline as a smaller target that she could protect. Give and take, as it were.
Though Marcelineâs crouch had left Zahra in a better position, sheâd been forced on the defensive, bringing the training rapier to deflect her strike in a less graceful manner. It appeared as if it had been an instinctive move, rather than one sheâd been expecting to make. As clever as she could be, her style lacked the finesse of a chess board. She operated in equal measures of pure instinct and dumb luckâwhich was apparent with all the scars sheâd acquired as of late, still managing to walk among them with little more than a grimace, and frequent trips to Asalaâs clinic.
She took two steps back with a huff and grinned wide, eyeing Marceline through a lidded gaze. For all intents and purposes, it appeared as if Zahra were enjoying herself, which wasnât all too surprising given that sheâd always tried to weasel out of her studies in order to spar and practice. She couldâve learned a thing or two from FĂ©licitĂ©âs measured, concise movements. Hers were made of wild things. She swayed to the side, then the other, before attempting to circle around and level another strike from above, a wild aim that seemed to have no particular direction.
Zahra's steps backward allowed Marceline enough time to rise back onto her feet, her stance reset. She eyed her opponent cautiously and when she circled, pivoted on her heels to follow her. When the blade came down, Marceline foot slid back, not to escape, but to brace herself. She caught the blade and its wild aim with her own, and let it slide all the way to the crossguard. She twisted her wrist to try and get a better hold and then attempted to swing both blades into a wide circle in front of them to try and dislodge Zahra's blade from her hand.
From the widening of Zahraâs eyes, she hadnât expected the slender pommel to twist from her grasp. It was clear that sheâd been trying to wrest it in her grip, or at least keep it in hand, but Marceline had been too quick to allow any such attempt. Now weaponless, and in close proximity, it appeared as if she wasnât prepared to end the match just yet.
Another huff sounded. An intake of air, before there was a flurry of movement as her rapier spun through the air towards Pierre. She ducked her head and lurched forward in a brazen attempt to tackle her to the ground and keep her from leveling her blade at her throat in an obvious checkmate.
Marceline's attention was drawn away from the fight only for a moment, her eyes following the flight path of the rapier toward her son. However, she was not able to see where the weapon had landed, as a heavy force slammed into her and she felt the sensation of falling before coming to a sudden, and somewhat painful stop. A soft grunt was the only thing she could say as she lay on her back on the ground.
As soon as Marceline thumped on the ground, and their momentum halted, the weight lifted from her. Zahra peered down from her vantage point, chest rising from the exertion of such a maneuver. âWhat happened⊠to watching your opponent?â A small, innocuous jibe. Breathless. One that couldnât possibly be held in. A somewhat sheepish grin splayed across her lips as she rolled off and rose back to her feet, offering one of her hands.
She glanced sidelong and arched one of her eyebrows. Her smile wobbled a fraction. The smallest sign of concern rising as soon as the dust was settling at their feet, âNo one hurt, ya?â
Marceline's gaze also darted over to the side. Pierre looked a little stunned, the sheath of his own sword held out across him, and Zahra's sword on the ground in front. Even at that distance, she could see the cracks etching across the scabbard, undoubtedly where he had fended off the flying sword. He spared a glance at it once more before looking back up at Zahra and giving her the thumbs up. "Fine, just fine. Just surprised is all. I was not expecting to be a part of the lesson, honestly," he said with a laugh. Zahra made a noise of approval. More a whoop, when she noted Pierreâs quick deflection.
Lady Félicité was by his side in the next moment, as if to ensure that he was really alright. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Luckily I was watching," he joked at his mother's expense. "I will just need a new sheath," he noted, peeling the splinters off of it.
Once she was sure Pierre was fine, Marceline finally accepted the Zahra's hand and pulled herself off. Fortunately, the only thing injured was her pride. As much as she wanted push the blame off somewhere else, the fact remained. She lost focus for a moment, and it was in that moment that she had lost. She brushed the dust off of her and nodded. "And now you see what happens when you take your eyes off of your opponent," she stated, "Even for a moment." She frowned when she looked at Zahra, but it did not last long before shifting into a smile.
If Zahraâs beaming smile was anything to go by, sheâd be remembering this particular sparring match for ages to come. Even if it was won by less than honorable means, it was still her first victory. She took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, planting her hands on her hips. Whether she was being mindful or not, she didnât rub it in Marcelineâs face.
Perhaps, she was saving that for later.
âI must say, your boyâs got reflexes,â she noted with a grin, and nodded her head, âmaybe he should watch all our sparring matches.â As if by him being present, sheâd have more chances at upping her tally. An unlikely gamble. She rubbed at the back of her neck and watched as Pierre picked at the slivers of wood cracked across his scabbard, âHope that wasnât⊠uh, a gift. Or anything.â She glanced back at Marceline, as if to confirm.
Marceline shook her head, but Pierre answered. "No, nothing of the sort," he answered, partially drawing the blade to reveal an ordinary blunted practice blade, "It is just the one I use to practice with father." He then let it slide back into its sheath and stood, snatching Zahra's blade off the ground as he did.
"Micky does fine work," Lady Marceline noted. Pierre then handed Lady Félicité his own blade to hold for a moment to cross the distance between him and the two of them, giving her rapier a few practice swings before offering it to her, pommel first.
"Next time, I'll watch from behind a wall or something," he added with a grin.
"That would be... prudent, yes," Marceline agreed.