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Post by Nomz on Nov 20, 2024 19:20:52 GMT
He can do it. Damian knows that if he poured his soul into his training, he would get to the point where he no longer looked at the dao and saw Cain. He knows that he could get to the point of being as skilled as his elder sister. Did he want to?
The clash of metal on metal yanks Damian from his thoughts. He sees what his teacher plans, and knows from the angle and the location of her blade. Shiva raises his swing up towards the ceiling and the light catches on his dao. It wouldn't take much to hold on, to tip and tilt so that her weapon slides off his in favor of another strike.
Calloused hands loosen their grasp on the hilt of the liuyedao and Lady Shiva's momentum is enough to send the blade sailing up and out of his reach. His body relaxes out of a fighting stance, watching as the sword spins and then clatters to the floor.
"I think my voice- I think I am meant to be seen as one thing while always being another. Not to deceive or confuse, but because people are more than just one thing."
If allowed, he moves to collect the follow dao and he pauses to lay it down near the other blades. Without missing a beat, he picks up the final weapons and offers a Shikomizue to his sensei.
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Post by darkkon on Nov 21, 2024 3:24:40 GMT
Contact, grip loosed, blade lost. A choice was made, had he wanted he could have kept hold, he could have recovered, but this was not his blade. She relaxed her stance with him, standing normally and allowing her blade arm to fall beside her. - “I think my voice- I think I am meant to be seen as one thing while always being another. Not to deceive or confuse, but because people are more than just one thing.” - Shiva’s left hand would raise for a moment to halt her pupil before he went to collect his dao and return it for the next choice.
“No.” She’d state bluntly, her eyes upon his wounded leg as she approached him and leaned down to his left. Three fingers, two below one above the wound, pressure, followed by an odd tingling sensation of nerves and flesh being reunited as it stitched itself shut. “To live as such is not to be seen as one while always being another, you are both. If you do not see yourself as both you will lose yourself between them.” She’d elaborate without so much as glancing at his face, her tone cold and matter-of-fact, before standing upright and setting out to return her liuyedao to its place upon the wall. A slight wave of her hand signaling that her student could carry on.
She’d return to the center of the room as her student brought forth his next selection, one that seemed most fitting considering his choice of words. A sword stick, Japanese make, shikomizue mounted straight blade. This design featured a straight handle, guardless, of course, so that it sat properly within the cane-like scabbard. The scabbard itself was durable, made to be used as a hanbō both before drawing and in tandem with the blade it held. Only the bare minimum was hollowed to make room for the blade so as to minimize weight loss of the scabbard and subsequent reduction in force. Likewise, it was thicker than the average novelty cane-sword, with an actual combat ready blade held within.
Though her expression remains cold as she takes the offered sword-staff and waits for her student to take his place, she finds it both fitting and ironic. Inside was a straight blade, without the scabbard it was essentially a guardless chokutō, a representation of his al Ghul half. Outside it was a hanbō, a fitting choice to represent his Wayne half and the lineage of the Bird’s. It was both, yet neither. He was both, yet neither. Was this his weapon? She shall see.
When her student stood ready she would adopt a middle-level stance, left hand on hilt, right on scabbard, two hand widths between. Right foot slightly ahead, tip of the “staff” pointed at her student’s eyes. If he did not start, she would. Right foot stepping forth, a thrust towards his diaphragm, but a feint. Her intent was to bait him into swatting away at her thrust, where she’d pull back and instead aim to swat either the back or wrapped fingers of his lead hand.
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Post by Nomz on Nov 23, 2024 14:23:37 GMT
His feet pause before they can move, noticing the silent command that he stops in that raised hand. Damian stays still as she approaches and he followes her gaze down to the wound in his leg. While aware of the injury, the lad is more than familiar with working while under his best and had not thought twice about continuing with it. Relief washes through the area as she heals it in that way that only she seems to know how to do.
If he didn't know better, he would think she cared more about him than merely seeing a weapon reforged. Damian carefully tucks the fragments of affection for her back into the edges of his mind. He has been burned by believing that people in the league cared about him before and he knows that Shiva's rejection would ache deeper than it should. He won't risk it. She is his sensei, not his mother or his aunt.
"Both," he muses as she steps away to return her weapon. Damian moves only with her signal that he may and he moves to the weapons. Could he be both? Had that always been an option- a Wayne and an al Ghul? But what of Renegade? Is it possible for him to be all three?
Or...maybe he could be something new, built from those pieces?
Damian adopts a similar stance to Shiva, mindful of his hand placements. This, at least, feels familiar in all the right ways. How much time has he spent wielding a blunt weapon against his opponents? As she moves forward to thrust at this chest, Damian twists his body and shoulder as quickly as he can until his profile from his right shoulder is facing Shiva instead.
In the same movement, he lets his weight drop down and forward on his leading leg. He swings his weapon horizontally under hers in an attempt to strike at the knee of her leading leg. Damian is gambling on the idea that she may not be able to gain enough momentum for a punishing downward strike.
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