Atychiphobia enjoy the pain xoxo
Atychiphobia: My muse comforts yours after a (real or perceived) failure.
cackles at you thinking i was gonna make this sad
“Hyah!!”
The cry came out forceful, as did the strike. A hard, fast diagonal cut that forced her to block rather than dodge, followed by several strikes from multiple directions. There seemed no plan to his motions, other than to keep pummeling at her defenses until she gave way. As strong as he was, if he kept up the offense, she would make a mistake sooner or later.
“--!!”
There! An opening! Now, he just had to--
--get parried--
--disarmed--
*THOK!!*
--and beaten.
“Sh--” The curse was cut short as he found himself reeling and falling on his behind, the strike to the top of his head disorienting him. The wooden training sword clattered against the floor next to him, Everything happened so quickly and so smoothly, it was like he hadn’t even had a chance to begin with.
“Damn it!” He’d kick his foot outward and punch at the air, his frustration clearly mounting. “I almost had you, just that once...!” And there he went, pulling at his hair in frustration. This had been the twelfth--he hoped so, he’d actually lost count--time their sparring sessions had ended like this.
“Perhaps.” The king’s stature remained pointed and with discipline, her own sword planted to the ground blade-first, her hands at the handle. “Your lack of a proper form keeps you from capitalizing on any openings. Swinging blindly won’t accomplish anything.”
“Ugh, I know that already!” He was getting rather frustrated.
A few seconds of silence went by.
“--Ah,” Her eyes widened. “I’d almost forgot. Your father had finished preparing dinner a short while ago. Would you care to--”
And he was already up and walking. “Sure, let’s go.”
“...Nero, a moment.”
The boy stopped, hand on the doorknob, his back still turned to her.
“Before, you couldn’t have even come close to pressuring me like you had. That’s a rather large leap in such a short time.” She smiled. “I’m very proud of you.”
Nero still stood there, silent for a few more seconds.
“Nero?”
“--C’mon, let’s go eat, Mom.”
And as he left, the king could read his tone. The more relaxed stance he had taken. The lack of frustrated tension in his body. And, though he tried to hide it, the beginnings of a smile.
