@wiitchisms: swordplay (reverse if you like I’m 👀 for either)
She let her win. She let her win, and Winter isn't entirely certain how she feels about that.
These sparring sessions were becoming more common, Salem insistent on helping Winter to learn how to reign in the Maiden powers that she was so hesitant to use. As if trying to make up for something, as if she felt guilty for it. She knew, of course. Knew who and what Salem was and why she felt such a desire to ensure that Winter did not feel the burden that had been laid on her shoulders.
So, they began to train. And every single time, Winter froze.
It was one thing to fight against the Grimm that had descended upon them in their arrival to Vacuo, the faceless monsters with no soul and no will besides killing and destroying. It was another thing to fight someone you knew. And try as she might to separate it, she always went back there. Back down beneath Atlas. Back to the vault. Back to fighting against the one person she thought would always be on her side.
And she froze, and every single time, she begged Salem to stop.
Today was no different: that same sensation in her head, where the world around them faded out to the sound of the blood rushing in her ears. Heart beating so painfully in her chest she thought it might burst through. The taste of bile at the back of her throat, swallowed back down as she parried each of Salem's strikes without making any of her own.
It's a mental block, Salem had gently murmured after one particularly rough session. It's all in your head. You're safe.
No matter how Winter tried to use that as a mantra, it didn't seem to help. You're safe. The sandstorm around them raged on, perhaps fiercer than before as she tried to focus on the wind around them. It's in your head. Grasping, then, at something elemental and unexplainable. Manipulating it to her will. You survived. Glyphs burst to life around their battlefield, but flicker as she hesitates. It's not your fault.
And a smaller voice, far more invasive and inescapable: you killed him.
Whatever focus Winter had managed to build up during this fight snaps. Glyphs fade completely, and Edelweiss was not quick enough to block a particularly nasty strike from her teacher. Winter hits the ground hard, her knee making rough contact with the concrete as she tries to keep herself upright. The blade of her own sword is pressing into her fingers as she tries to push Salem back.
There is hesitation in those bright eyes looking down at her, mixed with resolve. She will not allow her to back out this time. Salem needs to know that she can defend herself, and Winter needs to learn that she is not the villain for surviving.
That flame within her flickers to life -- the sandstorm whirling around them stopping as if frozen in time. If Winter is aware of it, she fails to show it, instead keeping her eyes locked resolutely on Salem's own. Finally, fear gives way to resolve, and Winter pushes back -- digs Edelweiss further into her fingers and takes the hit to her aura in exchange for pushing the witch backward.
A bit more focus now. It's really not so different from her Glyphs, in practice. Ice forms in the air, sharp pointed icicles that each take turns slamming into Salem from different angles. It grants her a moment to catch her breath, to find her balance. Then, to strike.
Salem is still blocking the ice when Winter strikes with steel, and the hit takes her to the ground. The new maiden hits the ground as well, knees planted firmly on either side of Salem and her blade stilled just shy of piercing between her eyes.
Her sword shakes, however, and her eyes are hazy. Not entirely present in that moment, not enough so that she can appreciate finally having beaten her tutor.
