» a calm (?) day of training
open starter from @quiet-archer:
It takes Leonardo a bit of courage to come here.
He looks around the archery range; it reminds him a little of the one from Nox Castle. There is a little more greenery here than there was back in that stronghold, though with it being winter right now, not by too much.
He winces and shakes his head. The events from Nox Castle… sure were something that he actually went through and survived, huh. Daein’s last stand before being crushed by Ike and the army of laguz… Or as most Daein soldiers would have said, that accursed pack of stinking wild beasts. It literally took a dragon showing up for them not to get wiped out that day.
Though at the time, Leonardo did not know that there was any reason for them joining that war on Begnion’s side apart from pure hatred towards the sub-humans. So… he does not quite remember exactly what he thought at that time, but he feels like a part of him may have actually considered that punishment well deserved.
He lets out a sigh. Come on, now. He did not come here to reminisce about old wars, tragic past events and near-death experiences. He came here to relax and do some archery practice.
It would appear he is the only one at the range at the moment, though naturally, he does not mind in the slightest; and he had made sure it was alright for him to come and train whenever he pleased. A light breeze in the air, peace and quiet, just him and his bow and arrows; a gentle smile finally passes through his face.
He sets down his equipment and does some stretches to prepare his muscles for the exercise. After a few minutes, he pulls out his first arrow, takes aim - he spends an extra moment simply standing still and aiming, that in itself is enjoyable for his arms and his mind - before firing. Thump! He lowers his arm to take a look; a little too much to the left, but still a good one. Not bad for his first shot after a longer break, but could be better. He takes the next arrow; a few seconds later, that one ends up almost dead in the center. He allows himself another smile, slightly brighter than before, before pulling out another.
The world around him slowly ceases to exist, save for him, his bow and arrows, and the target in front of him. He fails to notice anyone who might happen to pass by the range or observe him from nearby.
It was no secret that every sky combatants bane were those pesky pointy sticks that dared hurt his winged ally. Mounts can’t heavily armor themselves unlike their riders. While they have natural means to protect themselves, when you’re bombarded by magic and arrows, even the mightiest fall.
Gerome, armed normally with an axe and with no affinity to magic, can only charge in to battle, maneuvering with Minerva through the sky and hoping those arrows won’t harm either of them as much.
He had no time to extensively train in other fields before, time limited to refining what he already knows... but now, post-war, there was finally time. And should the day come when there was a need to raise their weapons again, Gerome wanted to be more prepared so prepare he does. Instead of training with an axe or a lance, he opts for a bow and arrow this time around. Hand axes can only do so much. If he at least had a means to attack from a greater distance, he could strike back as they charged. It might be difficult to aim considering he’d be mounted on a continuously flying and dodging wyvern, but it was better than sitting idly while his dearest Minerva was in danger.
So he practices. Or at least, tries to...
“Tch.” His frustration shows. The last few arrows that left his bow either swerved too far off the mark, or it dropped just a few feet in front of him. This was pathetic.
He should have asked assistance much earlier in her life. Noire was a sickly girl and yet she could fire these arrows expertly. Her form was... odd, but her arrows always found their mark. He wished he took the time to accompany her while she trained all those years ago.
But Noire wasn’t here. And he needs to stop his habit of clinging to only those he knew. This monastery had plenty other students that surely would fit the bill, so he scans the archery range and observes them instead. One in particular looked focused. Sharp. He took his time before firing, the shots that follow drawing him closer to the center.
Gerome glances at the trail of arrows that he left either on the ground or pass the mark, but never on it. Again, pathetic. Mindlessly attempting to shoot would not benefit anyone. He takes one last look at the blonde that seems to know what he’s doing and decides to approach. Perhaps if he observed him and mimic-ed what he did, he would improve.
“...hey.” Not the best of greetings, but it was a start. He brought his equipment with him and stood near the blonde archer. He wasn’t facing him, in fact he was already preparing to draw another arrow. He tried to do the same, take his time before releasing... in fact he waited so long and got too self-conscious, he forgets to breathe. Only after the arrow was released did he let go of the air he kept in, and he watches as the arrow flies above the target, hitting and breaking the wall behind it. With a low grumble, Gerome temporarily admits defeat. He shakes his head and drops his arms, soothing his right as it grew a little sore from pulling the bow for too long. He turns to the blonde beside him, frustration laced in his tone as he searched for answers, “...is there a technique I’m missing here?”
