Ceres Uppsala: The Shield Maiden. (maidenofshields) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-01-08 15:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, ceres uppsala, juliette coulombe |
Now I've been lickin my wounds, but the venom seeps deeper....
Who: Ceres & Juliette
What: “You’re doing it wrong.”
Where: Shieldwyrm Hall
When: Backdated: 12/27
Rating: PG?
Status: Complete!
The guild hall had filled up again with the plague over, and the holiday season starting to move into recession. Shouldering past a large man with a spiked chain clipped to his belt, Ceres moved down the hall. There had to be some open training space around here.... Somewhere. How annoying it was to have to deal with this sort of mess. Couldn't they find their own space to go be idiots in? Though, at the same time there was some strange sort of relief at the noise, the shuffling about, and murmurings of her fellow guildmates. Maybe some of them were spineless cowards, but in the end, even those spineless cowards were still guild. Eyes narrowed as the former KingsGuard continue to try to find room for her sword practice, but it would seem she'd need to wait her turn if she liked it or not. Annoyance flashed for a moment but then it would seem luck had shone upon her as another fighter began to evacuate their spot against the dummies. A glance around showed no one waiting, and while there would still be others within the same space, at least it was something to start with. At the dummy alongside hers, a squire wielded a shortsword with questionable skill. Juliette had arrived at Shieldwyrm some time earlier for a meeting with Cressida; with the archer now gone about her business, the younger girl had decided that diligence was of superior importance to self-indulgence. This was the reason her new claws rested in her bag, and she practiced instead with a weapon she did not hold in particular regard. Lord Finch would surely recover soon, and he would wish to see progress (or at the very least, no evidence of backsliding). Thus she swung, attempting to maintain the best form possible as she worked through a series of blows and parries against an invisible opponent. Only the briefest glance was taken of the girl before her, and in those precious few seconds, Ceres had already noticed at least one - if not two or three - problems in the girl’s stance, and swing. The former KingsGuard’s mouth pulled into a firm and hard line. “Wrong.” Was all she would initially offer as her gunblade was drawn from its sheath, and Ceres dropped into stance. She’d been wanting to combine melee and ranged combat practices but it clearly was going to be too crowded for such a thing today. The single word came through the haze of Juliette’s concentration; startled, she looked at the blonde woman beside her (whom she had never seen before). Her weapon was noted (the same, she thought, as Rictor Cassul’s) as was her guarded (and, to Juliette’s imagination, displeased) expression. “Apologies,” she said, even if the situation did not really require them. Still, she felt absurdly as though she had offended with her poor practice. “Might you, perhaps, have any thoughts on how I might improve?” She had engaged her, after all; surely it had not been simply for the sake of telling her she was incorrect (even if that, too, was true). A second thought wasn’t even going to be given to the child next to her. That was, until the kid actually addressed her - even if it wasn’t by name - with the question at hand. Turning to actually look at the girl caused a narrowing of eyes. “Grip.” The word was clipped, and turning back, a roll of her wrist twirled the gunblade before she darted in, slashing at the target before zipping by it. A quick kick off against the wall redirected her momentum, and another two slashes were administered against the dummy before the woman hopped back, landing again in a defensive stance back where she’d started just seconds before. Shoulders dropped, stance easing up some as the Gunblade was brought up, and Ceres left the weapon to hang loosely from her left hand as her right arm extended, bending open, and then being pulled back in at the elbow in a stretch of sorts before the sword was taken up in both hands again. Juliette watched attentively as the woman moved. She was fast, but Juliette was not unaccustomed to discerning movement even at high speed (it was, after all, her one true strength aside from tenacity). This was not a lesson in a traditional sense; she understood that there would be no explanation, no coaching to follow the brief demonstration. But she had taught herself a long time ago to learn by watching -- prior to Lord Finch, this had been a crucial necessity if she wished to improve in any way. At least the woman had chosen to grant her a few moments of attention. Some might be offended, but Juliette was accustomed to criticism; she felt only gratitude for the demonstration (and, perhaps, a shred of self-disgust for her unfortunate lack of skill). As the demonstration completed, she looked down at her own hands and carefully adjusted her grip to better mimic the one she had just been shown. That done, she returned to her sword forms. And if the woman chose to pay her no further mind, she was content to have learned something. “Wrong.” She’d only caught what the girl was doing out of the corner of her eye, but it seemed painfully obvious at the same time. The balance of the swords due to the gunblade’s complex nature, weight distribution and - really - being a two handed weapon required a different sort of grip and swing on it. Unlike the simple one handed short sword the girl used which had little to guard one’s hand from blows. Another frown was earned as the girl was likely to ask for assistance again. “Balance.” The quick word would punctuate the air and she shifted, grabbing up the gunblade a bit more properly this time with two hands, her stance becoming far more solid. With the new grip, it helped to show how the weight of the sword sat. Which, was quite different from the - much more evenly weighted - girl’s sword next to her. Fortunately, Juliette had some experience with… taciturn instructors who prefered showing to telling. She watched the blonde woman demonstrating her grip (wondering the whole time if she was so terrible that simply ignoring her was painful for the woman to contemplate) before looking down at her own weapon, which was quite different (and, thank Faram, much simpler). With balance in mind, then, she attempted to adjust once more, incorporating her prior knowledge of the weapon she held along with her mentor’s previous lessons and the woman’s terse advice. Perhaps if she could get this right, then she would not offend quite so obviously (and she might retain something to make the interaction valuable from an educational standpoint). Finally, it looked like the girl had the proper grip. At least she wouldn’t go running off into the field and getting her blood splattered all over the ground as easily now. Though… Another frown. Who was teaching this child? With a swing of the gunblade, the blunt back of the sword can to rest against the same shoulder that the former KingsGuard grasped the handle with. Now, turning her gaze fully upon the young squire, the near scowl remained. “Leg.” Another curt word, and without looking down or doing anything than offering the briefest nod of her head towards one foot that was more forward than the other, Ceres attempted to get her point across. Another adjustment -- this time, Juliette couldn’t help the slight blush that came to her cheeks: she knew this, but it was often neglected while she focused on other things, her stance settling automatically to one meant for a different type of fighting altogether. She checked herself, head to foot, corrected the way she stood, then, once again, the way she held the sword before continuing in her practice. She had to admit, for all that she felt extraordinarily foolish before this woman who was clearly vastly more experienced, she was certainly getting more use out of this afternoon’s practice than she had imagined she might. For all intents and purposes, the former KingsGuard would swear she was done, that this girl before her had wasted enough of her time today, that there were more important things that needed vast amounts more of her attention. Yet, regardless of the flare of anger, regardless of her own frustrations, or supposedly concrete decisions within her own mind, Ceres came to another conclusion. “Tell.” The word has half barked, and eyes narrowed further once again. A beat would be allowed to pass between them before the thin line of her lips would part again. “Leading.” A definite point would be given to the way the younger woman led forward, telegraphing her blows before she was striking out. It was a sure way to get herself killed. At least the kid was learning. Amazing, really, just how much could be said with two clipped, short words. And while another squire might have finally, at this point, owned up to this being a tertiary weapon at best, one with which comfort had never actually been achieved. Instead she swallowed her frustration (with herself, tellingly, as opposed to the situation), attempting once again to adjust. She would never be more than passable with a shortsword, that much was very clear, but she could stand to learn something. And so, in the midst of her practice, she turned to regard the woman who had been instructing her, offering her a simple now and a grave and sincere, “Thank you.” The girl seemed to straighten up some then, flying right as it were. She’d be watched for only a few more minutes before Ceres had decided she was done. There were no other words that could be offered other than practice more, and those hardly needed to be spoken with how the girl continued at swinging her sword. The hard line her mouth had pulled into eased slightly, and the speed knight’s grip adjusted on her gunblade. A swift shift in stance, and Ceres automatically readied to go on the attack once more. Surely, at this point the girl next to her could fend for her own. Besides, the ranger had her own practicing to do. |