#commend

"Lady Azmerien," her teacher's voice was dark and smooth and she didn't know why that made her blush, but her eyes worked well enough that she could see that that was exactly what was happening to her reflection in the mirror over her instructor's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Adelaide began, bowing in deference to her mentor. "I know my movements were still stiff. I overthink. I stand still when I should move. I move when I should-"

Her instructor, a tall, slim, stern faced woman with dramatically arched brows, a pixie cut that drew attention to her high cheekbones, and who never smiled with her full mouth, only ever slightly with just the right corner of it, did exactly that.

"Lady Azmerien… Adelaide… no. I must commend you. I can see the dedication you've put into the art of the sword. And I assure you, it's just that. It is art."

"I-"

"You do still overthink. You do still sometimes move when you shouldn't and stay put when you should move, but I've been watching and I can see you're beginning to rely on intuition. Good. You know that knowing yourself and how your body moves is just one part of the equation. Knowing your opponent is just as important."

"Ah. Yes, well. I don't really--"

"Talk to other people? Yes, I'm aware. You hardly observe them either. You should. It's those observations that make the difference. It's a split second reading of another person and how they move and react that makes or breaks a sword match. All the same, I've seen a dedication and determination in you to succeed at more than just memorization of moves or doing what you think will look best to an audience. There's a love of the art there that many other students never develop. Good."

Adelaide wasn't sure she'd ever heard her instructor say more than six sentences to her before. She honestly wasn't sure the woman really noticed her at all… outside telling her, "Stop overthinking, Azmerien!", "Are you rooted to the earth as a tree? Move, Azmerien!" Or "Oh my. Is the wind so strong it's blowing you away? Stop hopping around, Azmerien!"

"I uh…" Adelaide responded, flustered. "Thank you."

The instructor nodded, gave the 19 year old noble a courteous bow, and began on her way out of the courtyard.

"Wait!" Adelaide called out. "How? How do I observe better? How do I understand someone better in combat?"

The instructor turned around and answered. "You dance with them, Adelaide. And pay attention. Dance is an art too. Everything we do that matters is. Go to those dances you avoid. Leave the wall where it is. And ask someone to dance."

"I...um…"

The teacher began to turn around but Adelaide's voice stopped her once more.

"Will you dance with me then?"

The permanently arched brows rose higher and the teacher turned back to face student. "You want to dance with me?"

Adelaide put her shoulders back, lifted her chin proudly, and said, "I want to defeat you the next time we spar."

The instructor laughed, genuinely, a sound Adelaide had never heard before. And on her face was a smile. A real one. Both sides! She stepped closer to Adelaide and reached out a hand to her.

[ FFxivWrite2021 Prompt 14: Commend ]

[ Content Warnings: death, grief, somewhat descriptive injuries and medical procedures regarding said injuries ]

[ A continuation of this prompt from a long time ago! And further history of the event in this answer here! ]

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He had stumbled back into Falcon’s Nest, barely alive with his brother attached to his shoulders, feet dragging behind him - a trail left in the snow. The camp was there to greet him, tripping over themselves to help their comrades - he was thankful so many of them had survived the attack, even if it meant running to save their hides. He didn’t get to say anything before his vision betrayed him, the pain of his shattered arm and the wood stuck under his barefoot truly caught up to him when he crumpled onto the ground.

"You truly are my daughter, Elphanse," he finally said.

The embrace from his daughter was welcome. And in that moment he had come to realize how few ane far between they had been. There was no doubt he loved Faustine and mourned her passing, but the rift in the family had begun to close and the similarities between father and daughter were far more than either had realized.

"Elphanse..." He pulls a book, the same one with various family names in it and took one, a specific one out. "It's purely a personal symbolic act, but it's one which instills a sense of wrongs finally done right against those who consider our house weak or irrelevant. Please, when all is said and done, I leave the symbolic burning of another of the enemies of our House removed, to you." Handing her a page with various names they both know painfully well, their House Arms and name, House Lemmieux.

"Mayhap it add an additional sense of closure you yearn for as well." He reaches out and embraces his daughter once again and places a fatherly kiss upon her brow.

He had to commend whoever had done it, be it Okuni or Idristan and Talan, or all three, perhaps, he couldn’t be entirely sure. Either way, they’d made good on their promise to place one of the small aetherytes Edarien commissioned at the bottom of the Ruby Sea. The cool damp of that underwater cave radiated back to him when he felt along the pathways of the aetheryte he held in his own hands. 

Good. 

Forward. Back. Left. He’d done the steps many times now, and with each iteration he grew more sure, more comfortable with the movements. Akira had been at this for hours, and he was tired and hungry, but he was so close to perfection that he could taste it. It had been a long and arduous journey, but Papa had finally let Master Inagawa give Akira a preview of what it would be like to train with him.

Back. Forward. Right. Keeping his feet in a tight area was difficult after training in Kendo, but he made it work; after all, the best samurai were adaptable, and the best shinobi undetectable.