[when it's night, and the Temple should be sleeping, that's when Merlin knows it's a good time to train some. it's not like something worse than sickness feels like it will be happening, but he doesn't want to grow rusty - nor does he wants everyone just yet to know his capacity. call it an aura of mystery, call it being contradictory. but the fighting ring is away from the general center of things, so he figures he'll have some time to himself.
his cloak and outer layers he leaves folded up where they won't get dirty, leaving him in his sleeveless undershirt. his staff as well stays there after he withdraws the sword that hides within it. these dummies might not be exceptional opponents, but they fight back, and that's all he needs. alone, he can concentrate, let his blade talk for him. if someone was to see him, they'd see his face solemn in its concentration, his moves quick. this is a man accustomed to handling a sword - someone who fights not for pure joy, but to win. to battle, for life.
if something worse is to come, he'll need to keep his own head on his shoulders.]
he hates sleeping. he always has. his designated purpose here is to protect these people.
or maybe the truth is that the prospect of being forced to witness the world die, bit by bit, just as it did before haunts him.
so he gets up, blade in tow, dressed down to his pants, hair tied up and tightened until it has no chance of sweeping across his shoulders. the iron of his boots sift against the ground. there's a figure, familiar, graceful—
...
nier doesn't speak. instead, he watches. he gets a feel for his movements. there is purpose in his stance. he is firm in how he carries himself, and he can see it flicker in his eyes, the way he envisions an opponent that does not exist, something to concentrate his energy towards.
of course, he's never been much of a spectator. so he enters the ring, arms behind his head. ]
...People make for better practice than dummies do.
[ his features are hard, but he cants his head the slightest bit — like it's a proposition. ]
[Nier's voice cuts through the sound of fighting, registers to him, but Merlin doesn't respond immediately. instead, he blocks the blow that the dummy is sending him and counters, before he holds his hand up.]
That's enough.
[light, but there's not a request in it. instead, it is a command solid enough that the dummies back off, and Merlin can look to Nier.]
...Can't sleep, Nier?
[of course people make better practice. but he has his reasons - he always does. his own hair hangs loose, but it doesn't seem to bother him - somehow, it wasn't getting in the way.]
...Do you want to spar? [ a hand runs through his hair. ] I told you you could get even whenever you liked. If you have any aggression inside of you, I'm fine with taking the brunt of it.
[ something small tugs at the corner of his mouth. ]
[he's about to be more cagey, to play with words and make his decision, but then Nier says that, and a part of himself that he usually keeps very down speaks. Nier's already seen him with a sword, so playing dumb won't help him too much. instead, he smiles, and his eyes are unreadable.]
Not to get even. But a friendly spar, now...I'm sure you'd give me a better time than these pieces of wood.
[and that said, he walks back a little, to give them proper space.]
[oh, he's fast, and Merlin can instantly feel the difference from his imagined opponents - an actual pushback, requiring him to swing his sword up to block and redirect, the clash of metal on metal ringing out in the arena, and there's a light in Merlin's eyes as he leaps back.]
Leave your marks, if you even can. They'll make a great story to tell.
[that he got them in a heated battle under the stars. but there'll be enough space to taunt, and he darts in to swing his sword, trying to slip under Nier's guard.]
[ his eyes are alight with something inexplicable — the gentleness so commonly present in his features leaves him, and instead he smiles, brows knitted and expression hard with a quiet ferocity.
merlin moves like the wind; he sees the purpose in his eyes more closely this time, flickering like a flame. metal rings. merlin swings, and nier parries; metal rings again. ]
Your skin is fairer than mine. [ he leaps back only to pivot forward on a foot and strike hard towards his middle, right along his chest. of course, this leaves his abdomen relatively exposed, but he doesn't care. ] I thought you'd value it more. [ merlin fights on the offense.
he likes that. it shows. ]
I'll make sure it's one worth asking about. Something that lasts with fondness.
[he'll heal himself, he thinks, if it'll be anything that really impacts his looks. he's not like Nier, who wears the evidence of what he knows across his body - such is the blessing of magic for those with even a touch of vanity in their veins. if he really showed it...
well. he doesn't. instead he knows at this range it'd be too hard to avoid it with his body, so he uses the blade, halting it an inch or so from his middle before he pushes back hard, trying to sway Nier's balance and push his sword out to the side so he can take advantage of that gap in Nier's defense.
obvious. he knows it'll be read. but if he really wanted to win, to draw blood, he'd start playing dirtier than this. that was the realm of a mage - victory at all costs. he can see that resolution in his opponent - time will tell if the same sort of thing gets drawn out of Merlin.]
[ nier's stamina seems to be at the forefront of his skillset, his strength being second — when merlin pushes back, nier does the same, teeth gritting as metal meets metal. his form threatens to fall apart, but he is notably immovable, wanting to knock merlin forward instead of deftly dodging. his voice lowers a register when he speaks, slow and deep— ]
Seeing is one thing. Feeling is another.
[ but the definition of "victory" in this fight seems to have taken something a little less clear-cut. in his mind, however, the pieces fall together, and he's eventually shoved off balance. this does not seem to distress him — it's an invitation to attack, to gauge what he'll do next. it's more exciting that way. ]
[it's too simple, too foolish to completely rush in. he breathes in, evaluating the situation, and foregoes the simple opening to kick out, going for Nier's legs to further push him. he can reason out how it would put him at a disadvantage to simply look for the easiest route - a brute charges ahead without thought.
but if he can slip a little more under his guard, then he can take another swipe at him.]
[ steel grazes his bare skin — until it pierces, rivulets of blood beginning to spill from and trickle down his abdomen. he uses this as an opportunity to charge forward and shift his katana upwards, going for a frontal offense as he strikes towards merlin's chest in a fluid motion.
merlin can do as he pleases. he'll grit through the pain no less, he's decided. ]
[Merlin pulls back, but not quick enough - the blade cuts through his shirt, a thin scratch along his torso. hardly something to worry about, flesh wound wise, but...]
Ah.
[glancing down, Merlin holds up a finger. one moment.
what he's doing is clear in the next second, as he uses the hand not holding a sword to pull off the shirt all together. better than having to repair it further later, and it made them more equal, didn't it?
that's all the time he needs though, before he's rushing back in for an overhand swing, keeping on his toes. clearly, he couldn't close his eyes around this one. and he intended now to make Nier view him the same - just for a moment, if he could.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action - october 1st.
his cloak and outer layers he leaves folded up where they won't get dirty, leaving him in his sleeveless undershirt. his staff as well stays there after he withdraws the sword that hides within it. these dummies might not be exceptional opponents, but they fight back, and that's all he needs. alone, he can concentrate, let his blade talk for him. if someone was to see him, they'd see his face solemn in its concentration, his moves quick. this is a man accustomed to handling a sword - someone who fights not for pure joy, but to win. to battle, for life.
if something worse is to come, he'll need to keep his own head on his shoulders.]
no subject
he hates sleeping. he always has. his designated purpose here is to protect these people.
or maybe the truth is that the prospect of being forced to witness the world die, bit by bit, just as it did before haunts him.
so he gets up, blade in tow, dressed down to his pants, hair tied up and tightened until it has no chance of sweeping across his shoulders. the iron of his boots sift against the ground. there's a figure, familiar, graceful—
...
nier doesn't speak. instead, he watches. he gets a feel for his movements. there is purpose in his stance. he is firm in how he carries himself, and he can see it flicker in his eyes, the way he envisions an opponent that does not exist, something to concentrate his energy towards.
of course, he's never been much of a spectator. so he enters the ring, arms behind his head. ]
...People make for better practice than dummies do.
[ his features are hard, but he cants his head the slightest bit — like it's a proposition. ]
no subject
That's enough.
[light, but there's not a request in it. instead, it is a command solid enough that the dummies back off, and Merlin can look to Nier.]
...Can't sleep, Nier?
[of course people make better practice. but he has his reasons - he always does. his own hair hangs loose, but it doesn't seem to bother him - somehow, it wasn't getting in the way.]
no subject
[ he's said that for the past 6 years.
nier stands tall, gradually drawing out his blade — just two dudes, hanging out with their swords.
his fingers run along its sheath. ]
I take it you couldn't either...but I didn't know you were good with a sword.
no subject
[his eyes trail over Nier, lingering on the sword.]
Am I in the way of you having a bout of your own?
no subject
[ his gaze is hard — it flits over merlin's own blade. ]
No. Am I in yours?
no subject
[however. however, a living person is far, far better than a substitute.]
no subject
[ he cants his head, slowly. ]
...Do you want to spar? [ a hand runs through his hair. ] I told you you could get even whenever you liked. If you have any aggression inside of you, I'm fine with taking the brunt of it.
[ something small tugs at the corner of his mouth. ]
I can't promise that you won't lose, though.
no subject
Not to get even. But a friendly spar, now...I'm sure you'd give me a better time than these pieces of wood.
[and that said, he walks back a little, to give them proper space.]
no subject
[ the cue clicks in his mind with ease.
so he steps back in turn, his katana slowly unsheathing, head held high. ]
I don't have any hard limits.
[ ... ]
But I'll try not to blemish your skin.
[ and he lunges, quick on his feet, swinging down. ]
no subject
Leave your marks, if you even can. They'll make a great story to tell.
[that he got them in a heated battle under the stars. but there'll be enough space to taunt, and he darts in to swing his sword, trying to slip under Nier's guard.]
no subject
merlin moves like the wind; he sees the purpose in his eyes more closely this time, flickering like a flame. metal rings. merlin swings, and nier parries; metal rings again. ]
Your skin is fairer than mine. [ he leaps back only to pivot forward on a foot and strike hard towards his middle, right along his chest. of course, this leaves his abdomen relatively exposed, but he doesn't care. ] I thought you'd value it more. [ merlin fights on the offense.
he likes that. it shows. ]
I'll make sure it's one worth asking about. Something that lasts with fondness.
no subject
well. he doesn't. instead he knows at this range it'd be too hard to avoid it with his body, so he uses the blade, halting it an inch or so from his middle before he pushes back hard, trying to sway Nier's balance and push his sword out to the side so he can take advantage of that gap in Nier's defense.
obvious. he knows it'll be read. but if he really wanted to win, to draw blood, he'd start playing dirtier than this. that was the realm of a mage - victory at all costs. he can see that resolution in his opponent - time will tell if the same sort of thing gets drawn out of Merlin.]
Now that, I'd like to see.
no subject
Seeing is one thing. Feeling is another.
[ but the definition of "victory" in this fight seems to have taken something a little less clear-cut. in his mind, however, the pieces fall together, and he's eventually shoved off balance. this does not seem to distress him — it's an invitation to attack, to gauge what he'll do next. it's more exciting that way. ]
no subject
[it's too simple, too foolish to completely rush in. he breathes in, evaluating the situation, and foregoes the simple opening to kick out, going for Nier's legs to further push him. he can reason out how it would put him at a disadvantage to simply look for the easiest route - a brute charges ahead without thought.
but if he can slip a little more under his guard, then he can take another swipe at him.]
no subject
[ steel grazes his bare skin — until it pierces, rivulets of blood beginning to spill from and trickle down his abdomen. he uses this as an opportunity to charge forward and shift his katana upwards, going for a frontal offense as he strikes towards merlin's chest in a fluid motion.
merlin can do as he pleases. he'll grit through the pain no less, he's decided. ]
no subject
Ah.
[glancing down, Merlin holds up a finger. one moment.
what he's doing is clear in the next second, as he uses the hand not holding a sword to pull off the shirt all together. better than having to repair it further later, and it made them more equal, didn't it?
that's all the time he needs though, before he's rushing back in for an overhand swing, keeping on his toes. clearly, he couldn't close his eyes around this one. and he intended now to make Nier view him the same - just for a moment, if he could.]