Fencing with Prince Caim

[bloodycrow]

Who: Caim and You
What: Murder Private one-on-one fencing tutelage not in the snow. Since it's somewhat overdue.
When: Jan. 30 - After class hours
Where: The fencing room awwright
Warnings: Uncharacteristically unlikely


Fencing was not merely technique and that was a concept that was somtimes difficult to pass onto his students. Caim was good with a sword, and perhaps that was only because while his sister was reading and learning more about diction, he was obsessed with training with their father. Some prince he was, even as an adolescent. Whatever the case, he had to admit he never quite pictured being able to use that skillset in a practical fashion.

But did he enjoy it? He supposed in some remote manner, he did. As if he could put himself in his father's shoes and his students in his own from older days that weren't quite as agonising and riddled with inevitable strife. Even more so, the recent days had found him with a demeanour different from the norm. Not softer, for Caim was anything but soft. Merely less hard of expression. As if to say something was finally going right for him.

And objectively anyone who knew him would have had every right to regard him with more suspicion than typical. A mad man could be trusted to be mad, but when he regained some of that sanity, did it make him merely feigning proper mental faculties? Or was his posturing genuine?

As he waited patiently, he practised by himself, dancing with an invisible partner as he struck empty air, parried pretend counters, and evaded masterful lunges. It very well could have been beautiful. If the sword arm didn't belong to the man with the seemingly hazardous black rear wings.