Garreg Mach never felt like home. Blood relatives walked these corridors and cobbled courts, yet these grounds were not Isaach. The crisp winds so high in the mountains stung as they did at home, yet the scents they wafted through the schoolgrounds were not the same. It was clear this was not Isaachian soil. Even the grass sprouting forth on the mountains was different.
He doesn't regret his return in the slightest, yet it was a reminder to the bloodshed caused during the war for Jugdral. Provinces extrinsic from familiarity, comfort still had to be found somewhere.
The training grounds would always be a place of alleviation.
In the twilight of the day, clouds tinted like coral flew long into what was once the bygone day. The purple and orange hues swirled and shone bright despite the crepuscule casting shadows onto the walls of the monastery. Yet those glimmers of fading sunlight seemed less and less important by the moment. These battlegrounds were never empty, even in the dead of the night, yet the downtime now meant less traffic.
Yet an axe-wielder caught his attention, porcelain hair being the reminder to who this student was.
"Care to spar, Edelgard?" Voice low so as to not startle her. Many days had been spent doing just that, honing her skills and teaching combat as he had once done with his own flesh and blood.
As he stepped across the courtyard, a dull sword is seized and examined. Not good enough. Another is taken afterwards, feeling much better in his grizzled hands. Methodical in his stride back he returns, opposite her now.
"You know, I had to step away for a bit. Deal with some things back at home. I hope you haven't been slacking." She was a diligent, studious girl, he knew that. She wouldn't let up in her training.
As his sword flourishes to above his head, pointed at her, he changes his stance, ashen eyes locked. A hand comes forward, inviting her to attack. "Show me what you've got, Edelgard."
The training hall was never a quiet place, but she sought it out not for tranquility. Edelgard frequented its premise for strength— To prepare herself for anything and everything. With each swing of the axe against her faux opponents did she focus solely on what's in front of her. Still, it never arose the same feeling as that of sparring with a real person. Opposition gives rise to victory. With nobody to defend and retaliate, it was akin to fighting an enemy who was ready to surrender. Ideal, certainly. Realistic? Impossible.
She recognized his face— The way he drew his weapon and the few parries they once had. She was not greeted the way she usually is, words drawn out from nobility looking to seek her audience. The princess found it refreshing. Rather, she may have very well sought it out herself had she not been approached first. Edelgard had been taking care to hone her stance, for its vitality had come to make itself more than prevalent. Every second counted.
"I welcome the challenge." While her expression remained neutral, one thing did not— The determination in her eyes. "I hope those matters were nothing too pressing." Wishful thinking, perhaps. She doesn't know. "'Not once did I pause in my training. My axe will speak for itself." Shoulders back, feet firm. Axe held tight. With a training partner as strong as Shannan, she knew not to spare any moments lingering. When she charged forward, her step was lighter than it once was.
