~Melee Class Done by Taiat~
Phoebe wasn’t looking forward to this. It wasn’t so much the fact that combat wasn’t suited to her (although she did greatly prefer looking pretty, making pretty things, and helping others to getting dirty and bloody), as the fact that she was a little afraid of what to expect. She was supposed to learn today’s skill outside, and it was with another new teacher. While she wasn’t exactly going to miss Ary’s lack of patience and complete improvisation, she was slightly afraid that the new combat teacher might be scarier than Ary, more prone to wrath-like behavior. That was something that Phoebe felt less than prepared to handle.
She spotted what could only be her ‘classroom’ for today - a target sitting on the grass, that looked like it could be adjusted to different heights. It reminded her a little of an archery target, or how she imagined them to be from books, but she didn’t think that she was here to learn archery; that took strength and she was more of a finesse kind of girl. Spotting the person who must have been her teacher, she trotted up to him and offered a smile, which faltered a little when she didn’t get anything but a nod in return. Her teacher was another elf, or so it seemed, but she wasn’t sure what… well, kind of elf. He wasn’t a dark elf like her Mama, and he wasn’t a High Elf. Not that it mattered anyway, she decided, as he waved her closer.
“Welcome, Miss Phoebe. I am Taiat Kileplith, and I will be teaching you how to use throwing knives,” he said calmly. “They’re distance weapons, and used to kill or disable a target when you can’t or don’t wish to get close.”
Oh, Phoebe thought. She stayed quiet this time, but inwardly her thoughts were racing. This could come in handy if she was ever attacked again – she could get some distance between her and an attacker and stop them without ever having to get dirty! This was a kind of combat she could enjoy. And of course, she would be the best at it. There was no question there. Quietly, she listened to Mister Taiat as he took out a set of throwing knives, explaining how to care for them so that they didn’t lose their sharpness, how to check and make sure that they were properly balanced for throwing, and making sure that she knew exactly how careful to be while practicing, (and reminding her not to do it without supervision.) Phoebe listened patiently enough for the most part, but a patience spawn she was not, so she was extremely excited to get to the throwing part of the class.
”This seems really complicated, Mister Taiat,” she said, glad that the bruising on her face was virtually gone now. She had even opened up her eye thr other day, and there was no more pink in it – she could see out of it again, which was good for the depth perception she needed to be able to do this. In a way, she guessed she owed Ily for hurting her, since it had ended up helping her out in the end. ”Okay, so I hold the knife like this?” She asked, trying to grip the weapon like she had just been shown.
“That’s close, but you want to grip it like this,” he teacher said, adjusting her hold, and then guiding her arm back to throw. “Knife throwing is more finesse than strength.” She listened as he described to her the proper way to throw the knives and walked her through it a few times, first weaponless, then not releasing the knife. Finally satisfied, he stepped away, and said “Now try it on your own.”
Phoebe nodded and threw, eager to prove that she was the best at this, too. Her first throw, however, went wide of the target, and the next one overshot it completely. The third one, however, landed in one of the outer rings of it, and from there on out there was only improvement to be had. Mister Taiat would correct her grip, or her stance or her motion, and have her throw again and again until she was sore and aching from the difficulty of the workout. But the hard work paid off as Phee’s throws grew closer and closer to the center of the target, only going wide occasionally when she grew more fatigued.
After she had thrown her closest throw yet (it had actually hit the center circle, kind of… if it was a little too far to the right), she had to stop for a moment to rub at her arms; this was a lot more difficult than she had thought it would be. Her teacher watched her without comment, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he nodded to himself and began gathering up the thrown knives, finally coming back over to her and handing her a set of them.
“These are for you to practice with on your own time,” he said quietly, his gaze serious. “Remember what I’ve taught you today, and do not practice without supervision. You did well.” Somehow, those three small words felt like she had just been praised in a thousand words by someone who talked more. Phoebe smiled brightly, and this time she didn’t let it faze her that her teacher didn’t react much to the display of emotion.
”I’ll remember!” she chirped, and would have danced in place if she wasn’t so tired from all of the throwing that she had been doing. ”I’ll remember, and I’ll practice and be careful, and by the next time you see me I’ll – I’ll be as good as you are, you’ll see,” she declared, eyes sparkling as she took the practice set of knives (which, despite being for practice, were very high quality), and held them delicately, like they were something fragile and precious rather than deadly weapons. ”Thank you,” she added, feeling like it was best to be polite, waving goodbye and walking away. She wondered what her mother would think about her learning to use throwing knives… surely she wouldn’t be very interested in it, right? But maybe she could still supervise her practices – did the park let you throw knives around? Hm, she had to think about this.
((Word count: 1060))
