' - your posture is as terrible as it comes. it's a dagger, yet you are swinging it around as if it is a whip. who are you trying to harm? yourself? ' heavy vocals rose and boil towards the surface. mane of raven hue whips within the sharp breeze, one's blade's handle, secured within an iron clutch. observant, inspecting. judging. as visions of amber predict each and every motion, the heiress were to offer, during their sparring session. ( not to learn nor teach, but to mock the princess, the steed intentioned. )
parrying each and every move so effortlessly however, does create room for impatience. and yet.. - and yet.
' .. huh. ' a huff, a breath released. balancing on the fine ( yet thin ) line, of laughter and wrath. familiar. something is familiar about this.
' - were you taking lessons, from a barbarian? ' / ( from oleander ! )
It was no use. Nunnally knew she was no match for him. No matter what she tried, no matter what she did, it seemed like a childish game for him. As if Oleander could look inside her mind and see every move, every attack she could come up with before she could even think about it. Was it how she moved that gave him all the information the stallion needed? Nunnally was getting tired, her cheeks were red from fruitless efforts, the sweat was running down her spine like an unstoppable mountain stream. Her every attack was parred, she could not touch him, not even surprise him and his mocking words were the least of her problems.
“Obviously I am not trying to hurt myself.” – she hissed at him – “And I am doing pretty good job at it. And it doesn’t seem you are able to reach me with your sword either.” – that was an open bluff. A tease. She knew Oleander did not want to touch her. He did not attack her even once, only parrying whatever she could come up with. It was not a lesson anymore (Or was it ever? Perhaps that was exactly what their sparring was to be about.) but the pure demonstration of the stallion’s force and domination. And an increasing frustration on her side.
It would have made Nunnally feel much better if Oleander had fought her back at least once. She would not mind getting hurt. Bruised and left in pain. At least that would show that she was not a joke for him. Yet, he did not and Nunnally was wondering if he did want to (assuming she was not worth even that much) or simply could not because of Lord Oseis. She was not entirely sure what the links between the two of them were (or perhaps she knew but it was just something she was not ready to admit) but she realized Oleander would not go against Lord Oseis’s wishes. Not matter if it worked in her favour or just on the contrary. Lord Oseis! – an unexpected though crossed her mind. Oh, that was perhaps the answer. Her only chance?
She attempted to calm her breath and tried another strategy. To bore him. She did not expect she’d stop the match before she asked for it. And she would not hold her position much longer. She became repetitive. Not clumsy, but she was not trying anything. Her actions – since it seemed Oleander disrespected her so much – could be easily explained by her tiredness and inexperience. ( "Underestimate me more!" ) – she wished silently trying to figure out if that was the moment. And then she attacked. Just as Lord Oseis taught her. No, she was not truly successful. She did not reach him, he parred that one as well. But she was satisfied. It took him off-guard. He did not foresee it coming. She was close enough. She could not expect to do any better. Patience was what she needed.
But his next words were like a slap in her face. She hated it every time Oleander talked about Lord Oseis, or rather about her and Lord Oseis. Whatever it was, as she herself would not dare to describe or more importantly name the relation between the War and her, it was not for Oleander to discuss.
“Of course I am.” – she said calmly but her voice was showing she was pleased with herself – “I am sparring a barbarian right now, am I not?” – she deliberately pretended she did not understand whom he meant.
“And I have not had the last word, yet.” – she did. For today. But he did not have to know that.
(“Attack me!”) – she pleaded silently in her mind; Nunnally only hoped she’d survive the first one as she would definitely loose her sword if he needed to attack her for the second time.
“How about calling it a draw for today?”– she teased after a moment of Oleander not following her wishes. Nunnally was aware that was not exactly a draw, but giving the difference in their skills (and his mocking behaviour from before) she decided it was fair to call it a draw. She deserved it.
