[FIN] Sparring (Vincento x Coquette)

[Faithofthefallen]

The leader of the Sinclair's family herd, Vincento Sinclair, her grandfather, was a strong stallion in his prime. All the family members were trained to use weapons, it had been some time since any member of her branch of the family tree had been trained properly. Her mother, Jessamine, had been thought dead by the rest of her family for years before Coquette and her sister, Cosette, were born. If that was even the right word for it. They certainly were descended from Jessmine and Relic, they shared a clear family resemblance, but they had not been carried within their mother's body. Had not truly been born in the conventional sense. Their father had made a wish on a star and Coquette and Cosette's baskets had appeared as the star's answer. It was somewhat disconcerting, to learn you came from a star, she certainly viewed the night sky in a rather special way ever since she had been told the truth. She wasn't really sure what to think about it, so she tended to try to push it from her mind. Wherever she had really come from, she was here now, and her family was her family regardless of the odd details.

The night was warm, the ground packed firm under her small hooves. She had always thought her grandfather must be old, but he was quick on his hooves and the young filly was forced to see him in a new light. She ached all over from the quick raps he had landed when her attention had strayed or she had not responded quick enough to his lightning strike movements. Vincento was deadly, even holding back with a practice stick instead of the long, elegant scythe that was his weapon of choice, he was a sight to take your breath away. His red eyes glittered as he circled her, his long spaded tail whipping back and forth in elegant arcs. The pendant he wore glittered and sparkled in the moonlight, drawing her eye for a heartbeat, he saw even that. His pale body shifting into a lunge before she could even blink.

wack

Coquette winced, gritting her teeth as her small ribcage moved with each panting breath. "Ouch!" she gasped, hating herself for the hint of a whine that had crept into her voice. She had been the one to approach him for extra lessons, wanting some time with her grandfather alone. She hadn't anticipated how much harder he would make her work than the other instructors, hadn't anticipated how stiff and sore the extra practice would leave her on top of her regular sessions. Still, she was making strides in the right direction, she still got rapped quite often, but it was no where near as often as when she had first begun.  

[Faithofthefallen]

Vincent's face was grim, but his eyes flashed with grim good humor as he went through the familiar steps of the pattern dance, adrenaline buzzing through his veins with each satisfying thwack as the practice staffs connected. He exulted in the warm burn as his muscles exerted, flowing easily from one form to the next. His body was a weapon, and he kept is as honed as his blades. The small filly before him was not a worthy opponent for his skill, she was nervous, easily distracted, and weak, but she was learning. He saw the fire those crimson eyes, so like his own, and recognized its' intensity. He had seen that intensity when Coquette had approached him about private lessons, it had been the reason he agreed to them. His daughter had approached him about going easy on the girl while she was learning, but he refused. He would not harm his granddaughter, but he would not insult her desire to learn by giving her a false sense of accomplishment. If she beat him, she would have to do it fairly, then it would truly be something she could be proud of.

Despite the wandering of his thoughts, Vincent's eyes never strayed from his small opponent. She was moving better this time, and she was focusing better, but he could tell she was focusing on how stiff and sore her muscles were, taking care not to overstrain them. She also flinched in anticipation of a strike every time he moved, that would not do. Sweeping his staff in an ark, he dismantled her feeble attempt at a defence, and thumped her soundly.

"Ouch" she squeaked reflexively, his eyes hardened at the tone in her voice. He hadn't been around children much since his own were foals. His other granddaughter, Coquette's older sister Jezabelle had given birth to three foals within the herd but she had raised them away from the family, fearing her mother, his youngest daughter, and rightfully so it seemed from the few details he had managed to pry out of the pair of them about their relationship before Eva had happened across Jessamine, catalyzing the reunion of his entire family. Vincent was still new to this grandfather business, it was one thing to meet your grandchildren when they were already grown, quite another to interact with them when they were still young and... Whiny. But Coquette and her sister, Cosette, were of his blood and spirit. It was his duty to train them and to assure they could live up to their heritage. Jessamine did not remember what it was to be a Sinclair, her children were not raised with his influence, but these two fillys... They would be mighty when he was finished with them, and as deadly as they were beautiful.

The stallion followed through with his attack, sliding gracefully out of range again and facing Coquette, who was now glaring at him balefully. A derisive smile twitched at the edges of his mouth, one elegant brow quirked mockingly. Stepping back he nodded his head and set his practice staff down, signaling the end of the round. "If you don't want to get hit, you need to let go of your discomforts and your fears. Sore muscles are no excuse for a poor defense, and a wandering mind can get you killed if your attention wanders with it. Stop reacting whenever my muscles twitch, that is how an experienced warrior fools a novice. You are allowing yourself to be distracted, never take your eye off of the weapon."  

[Faithofthefallen]

The pair exchanged a few more blows, sliding out of range, Coquette assumed the resting guard position, panting and glistening with sweat, she eyes her patriarch warily. He was not pressing his attack as hard as he would in a true fight, but that was the only allowance he made for her size and her age, that was fine. Blocking his blows felt like trying to stop an avalanche with muscle alone, he moved so quickly her inexperienced eyes could barely keep up with him, and even when she did block his weapon, he would trip her up with the sharp spade on his tail. Thin red cuts on her legs were mute evidence of where she had not been quick enough. If her mother knew how violent these practice sessions became, she would doubtlessly forbid her from coming. So Coquette chose not to tell her, she didn't want to be coddled, she wanted to be the best. Or at least good enough to hold her own against the best fighter in their herd. When she wasn't with Vincento or in her normal fighting class with Eva, she practiced her forms incessantly, dancing around in one spot, avoiding imaginary blows, keeping her muscles well honed. When she wasn't fighting, she was restless. Her parents were loving but, her mother in particular, was far over protective. She preferred spending time with her older sister, Jezabelle, who seemed to understand Coquette's issues with their mother. Her eyes always seemed far too knowing, the young filly was sharp, she knew there was something Belle wasn't telling her, but that was fine. Coquette knew her family had a rocky past, she and Cosette were the first of Relic and Jessamine's children to be raised with both parents around, and the first to be raised within the Sinclair herd in a long time. It was somewhat lonely with no other children around, she loved her family, and she adored her sister Cosette, it wasn't that she didn't enjoy playing with her basket mate but she wanted an adventure, danger, action. They couldn't have those things under the eyes of their elders.

Vincento's face was expressionless, she eyed him waiting again for a hint at what his next move would be. She was exhausted, her muscles loose and floppy like noodles, but she was too proud to ask for a break. Vincento stalked closer, his tail whistling through the air as it whipped from side to side. Coquette couldn't help it, her eyes flicked after it, jealousy seething in her gut. She wished she had that built in weapon. Her tail was silky smooth hair, and therefore, useless. She had fangs, hooves, and roses with thorns that were more likely to p***k her own skin than impede any enemy. She would receive her blade when Evangeline deemed her worthy, but for now, she had to use what she had... Coquette wrinkled her nose.  

[Faithofthefallen]

The chit was distracted. Vincent waved his tail hypnotically as he approached, watching her reaction as he did so. Coquette was allowing it to capture all of her attention instead of watching everything and nothing at once. She was getting tired, he could see it, but allowing exhaustion to rule you would get you killed. He feinted with his tail, driving the point towards her, watching as she lunged to deflect it, and then effortlessly pivoted. Coquette flew past him, her back was towards him so he swung down, thumping her on the rear with his practice staff and sending her flying end over end across the practice court. She landed in a heap a and simply lay there, dazed.

Vincent shook out his lustrous mane and stood there for a few minutes, one elegant brow cocked in impatience as he waited for her to get back up. She was still. After a while, his brow furrowed with concern and he approached. There was a small pool of blood under her, Vincent's concern grew, he hadn't thought he hit her that hard. He circled her, and was taken by surprise when she suddenly lashed out with her hooves, the speed and ferocity of the attack was thrilling, she hit him squarely in his legs and he found himself on the ground next to her.

Instinctively, anger flashed, his crimson eyes were glazed with fury when he whirled to face her, but the triumphant glisten in her familiar little face calmed him. It burned his pride to give her the victory, but after a moments' consideration, he decided that giving her this taste would ignite her passion and determination and make her a better warrior for it. He got slowly to his hooves and helped her up, the blood was from the roses growing out of her body. A curious mutation that was more visually interesting than useful. If the thorns weren't trimmed regularly, they pricked her skin and left her bleeding. As long as she kept on top of their growth, she suffered no discomfort from them, but, as children were wont to do, she often let such trivial details slip from her mind until they caused her discomfort.

"Good." he said simply, a corner of his mouth twisting in amusement at the victorious flush to her face and the light in her eyes. "We're done for today, you're worn to the bone and need to take care of that bleeding." He eyed her disapprovingly, "Your body is a weapon, and a warrior takes care of his weapons. Keep those thorns trimmed, if I see you neglecting them again, I'll whack some sense into that thick skull of yours." Coquette giggled and nodded, "Alright grandfather," she piped, darted in to butt him with her head before scampering off to do as she was told.

Vincent set his staff aside, a satisfied smile on his face. Coquette was strong, she would be a match for Eva someday, and even give him a run for his money, of that he was sure. She would make them proud, and be a tool that could drive his herd's enemies to their knees with her deadly beauty and grace. Vincent chuckled to himself as he left to wash and continue the rest of his day.

FIN