Caim of Caerleon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
loverofinnocence) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
smash_logs2013-03-20 05:42 pm
loverofinnocence) wrote in smash_logs2013-03-20 05:42 pm
The Time to Fence is NOW
Who: Caim, Students, Lurkers, and So On
Where: Fencing Class
What: Fencing Class
When: 03/21 - Late Morning
Warnings: What could possibly go wrong.
If there was one thing Caim could admit to excelling at - aside from murdering - it was the mastery of swords. In Midgard, the prince would have thought himself a Renaissance man of weapons, considering his training went through a plethora of fields. He could wield pole arms, staves, axes, and so on. Only thing he'd never really picked up was a bow and arrow, but that required to stay in the background of things. Perhaps it was regal authority that commanded in him a reminder that even the prince of a lost land needed to uphold some form of leadership quality - which demanded his presence upfront and centre.
For Christmas of 2012, Caim had given each student enrolled in his class a foil, particularly engraved with the pupil's name in the handle. Mostly so no one would suddenly accuse another of taking his foil as they trained and sparred. In hindsight, he supposed it was a nice gesture made on his part.
The class itself would be one part discussion of technique and minute demonstration, one part student solo training, and the final part student pairing training. Offensive and defensive maneuvers were to be held in the same high regard. Vertical strikes, horizontal strikes, the rotation of the wrist, the ability to stand lightly and hold a commanding presence, parries, and evasion were all key points to the traditional world of dueling, something not even Caim was foreign to.
In short, it certainly was nicer than Goose's piloting class.
The classroom itself was welcoming. Well, as welcoming as a classroom could likely feel, at any rate. Desks pushed further back to leave open floor in the front and Caim's desk, which was home to two yellow Pikmin with toothpicks, clearly interested in helping him teach. He stood behind it, as stiff and rigid as he ever was, a hand poised at hisbuttwings hip, and the other at the dry-erase board with pen in hand. And a chair behind his personal desk pulled out for his sister, who'd been so kind as to fulfill the role of his vocal translator.
Undoubtedly, it'd be intriguing. And maybe some students would stab themselves.
Where: Fencing Class
What: Fencing Class
When: 03/21 - Late Morning
Warnings: What could possibly go wrong.
If there was one thing Caim could admit to excelling at - aside from murdering - it was the mastery of swords. In Midgard, the prince would have thought himself a Renaissance man of weapons, considering his training went through a plethora of fields. He could wield pole arms, staves, axes, and so on. Only thing he'd never really picked up was a bow and arrow, but that required to stay in the background of things. Perhaps it was regal authority that commanded in him a reminder that even the prince of a lost land needed to uphold some form of leadership quality - which demanded his presence upfront and centre.
For Christmas of 2012, Caim had given each student enrolled in his class a foil, particularly engraved with the pupil's name in the handle. Mostly so no one would suddenly accuse another of taking his foil as they trained and sparred. In hindsight, he supposed it was a nice gesture made on his part.
The class itself would be one part discussion of technique and minute demonstration, one part student solo training, and the final part student pairing training. Offensive and defensive maneuvers were to be held in the same high regard. Vertical strikes, horizontal strikes, the rotation of the wrist, the ability to stand lightly and hold a commanding presence, parries, and evasion were all key points to the traditional world of dueling, something not even Caim was foreign to.
In short, it certainly was nicer than Goose's piloting class.
The classroom itself was welcoming. Well, as welcoming as a classroom could likely feel, at any rate. Desks pushed further back to leave open floor in the front and Caim's desk, which was home to two yellow Pikmin with toothpicks, clearly interested in helping him teach. He stood behind it, as stiff and rigid as he ever was, a hand poised at his
Undoubtedly, it'd be intriguing. And maybe some students would stab themselves.
no subject
For they existed, such a long time with her, those ugly thoughts that were her companion in the hopeless of times, the painful of day and nights. And even now, in these more brighter days they crept alongside her jealousy, made louder her fears of losing her brother.
If the worry lingered, it was only as voice in the back of her head and an unwelcome bitterness in her mouth as she looked to the class with little attention actually to. There was certainly no reason for Furiae to expect then, as she simply sat there, to suddenly receive that tender affection from Caim. The feel of him, near to her lips, on her skin; the princess couldn't react at first, as if there was nothing to react to. It was so out of place, that such a thing couldn't have possibly been. Her thoughts had been extinguished and made blank.
But a second went by, and with it Furiae's stillness; she looked back to her brother once more, and upon her face was a look that could easily be read by any in the room that saw it, so obvious that it was.
And Furiae hadn't forgotten where they were; that only added to the shock to receive what, yes, could only be described as a brazen act. So much, that even then in her reaction, Furiae could not speak any words to her brother. Only a hand lifted to the side of her face, as if it would somehow confirm that a face was there to be kissed, but nothing was spoken but the question in her eyes meant for Caim.
Her heart was far from quiet though, dancing in the suddenness, and sending the blood flowing through her much quicker than it had been a moment ago.
And all she had to do was stay seated in a chair.
no subject
It made the world hurt a little less, and Caim had no intentions of admitting that he, the invincible prince of a lost land, could be hurt by anything.
Her look was reason enough for him to give her a smile, not even caring if anyone else in the classroom saw. He appeared pleased, or perhaps genuinely touched that he held such influence over her. A tainted brother - more tainted than he - would have used that to his advantage. And somewhere inside of him, Caim doubted he was incapable of precisely that, but the desire to harm Furiae in any such way was so distant that he knew he would have hated himself for it.
Do you still think I wish you to be far from me? His mouth moved slowly for her benefit, as if he might possibly be able to get the words across.
no subject
But maybe it was because her scared heart was still known to him, despite the words he had promised her - words that she had accepted. Yet still, her doubt... it was too hard not to be frightened deep inside.
Saying no words, she shook her head and apologised by the expression that replaced the one before it, her lips copying the shape of what Caim's had been. Though he mouthed the words slowly, somehow, she still mistook them to be a rather different question.
no subject
She knew not that she - the Goddess - died by his hand, and he still could not tell her. Probably wouldn't be able to ever. Just another secret to hold inside of himself until it drove him to another brink. He'd have to hold onto his composure for a bit longer, however. For her sake. For Ai's sake. For Mac's sake. For the people who were actually worth a damn.
When she looked perplexed, he tapped her gently upon the tip of her nose. I love you. Seemingly uncharacteristic in any other moment than the one he shared with his sister. He thought it would be explanatory enough, though. Then she could stop thinking she was a burden on him.