at some point the rhythm and pattern of their training began to give way to something like familiarity in their exchanges and conversations and otherwise / a stepwise process that he hadn’t fully noticed until it was ———— well. too late, some may say, and her appearances alongside him became so utterly standard that they speak more frequently than they don’t, even if only brief conversations as a result of their attempts to AMBUSH EACH OTHER.
it would be a lie to say that she’s grating and he tolerates her presence and her help well enough. she’s a good training partner in that she keeps him on his toes and constantly alert, if nothing else, and he does the same for her, in return. an entirely symbiotic relationship that benefits them both and allows them to hone their individual skills.
and so her abrupt appearance just before the beginning of yet another tournament comes as little to no surprise to him. leonie registers in his mind rather faintly as he continues moving through his warm up, muscles loosening and movements fluid / focus entirely dedicated to the battles to come / not that they’ll pose much of a CHALLENGE to him, if this is to go like the others. which, he presumes that it will.
❝ so, what do you think about your chances? ❞ she leans casually against one of the stone pillars, arms crossed and something contemplative about her / just beneath the surface of her constantly brimming energy.
she asks, he knows, simply to reinforce the answer that he gives her without a moment of hesitation. ❝ i’m going to win, ❞ and whether that’s OUTRIGHT ARROGANCE or simply A GREAT DEAL OF CONFIDENCE is impossible to tell, only that he’s sure of himself and the smile that curves along her mouth whispers of victory, too. of something like vindication.
a great deal of their psuedo-harmony ( that’s so frequently belied by their competitive attitudes, aggression, and joint stubbornness besides ) is forged wholly by the fact that they’re constantly fighting each other. literally. HE is a boy who has always so loathed losing, even in the recesses of his memory that he’s half-discarded by now and the rest are left to rot and gather dust like gathering the wisps of dreams around them ( molding and molded by the taint of nightmares ), and up against the likes of HER, a girl who despises losing in near, if not outright, equal measure ———— well, it certainly makes for an interesting time. along with several broken doors, a handful of minor accidents, and sizable kitchen incidents that required a great deal of cleaning up on their part.
they’re far more similar than they are different, strange though that may be to consider, and on some levels he supposes that it’s nice, to have someone like—minded to him. and someone able to tolerate his level of training, on top of that.
❝ don’t get too cocky. it’d be a shame to see you floored when your confidence is so high, ❞ she pushes away from the pillar and her voice is chastising inasmuch as there’s amusement brimming as she reaches for him and pats his shoulders, a passing touch, squeezing as she walks by him.
❝ as if i’d let such a thing hold me back, ❞ an almost scoff as his sword twists in his hand / the crowd gathers around the fringes and he can hear her laugh behind him for all that he doesn’t look : his focus far too narrowed to pay her much mind, any longer.
if she’s taught him anything : it’s to not allow himself to be riled up by his opponent so foolishly. another thing to add atop his discipline and measured control of himself / if only out of concern / if only out of COMPETITIVE SPIRIT.
@pinellis // if you shout will it be echoed in me? ——— touch ( as encouragement )
