It was a perfect spring day, not a cloud in the sky, birds chirping, and flowers blooming in abundance. The air buzzed with voices of the academy staff and students, as they roamed the outdoor halls. Several lounged on benches to soak up the sun as they worked on homework or chatted with friends. Only the occasional n** of a chill wind reminded them that winter had not been so long ago.
“I hope you don't mind the location,” Fionchaor was saying. “It suits my magic a little better than the training hall.”
The two stood alone in the centre of the courtyard, near the gardens. Fionchaor had cleared the area only a few minutes earlier, in preparation for their match. For the most part, everyone knew to keep their distance. Even a practise battle could result in onlookers getting hurt. Just in case though, a staff member stood close by, watching and ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
Fionchaor stood about ten paces from Aleanette, debriefing her on the expectations for the match. “Remember to call out if you ever get too uncomfortable,” he said. “The point of this spar is to get a feeling for the ebb and flow of magical combat, not to test your limits. That being said, don't be afraid to get aggressive with your magic. I've had a little more experience; I'll be able to take care of myself. Now, whenever you're ready, go ahead and make the first move.”
Today was a beautiful day; a day that Aleanette would have loved to have spent tending to the gardens of the Academy or volunteering at the local familiar shelter, yet she stood across from a classmate, shaking in her flats with her fingers twisting anxiously in her petal adorned pale blonde locks. This was for the best, they'd said. She needed to know how to use her magic to protect herself, they'd warned. The hybrid didn't fully agree. She wasn't some warrior in training, far from it actually. As the elf across from her called out instructions and--bless him, he was even encouraging her--told her to make the first move, she found she was frozen on the spot. Her hands quivered as she dropped them back to her sides, fingers curling into white knuckled fists before loosening over and over again. She couldn't lash out at this other student for she hadn't been slighted. Practice or not, she just found it appalling. He seemed nice, and it set her usually bubbly personality on edge to know that the first person she had talked to had been because of a practice battle. Perhaps after their battle was over, she could make it up to him and bring him something to show her appreciation for dealing with her.
With a small nod that was barely even a tilt of her head, she managed to squeak out a tiny ‘okay’ which she was sure got swept away in the breeze that swept across the courtyard. Clearing her throat, she tried again, ”Okay, I uhm… Thank you.” She had to make the first move. She could do this; she knew she could do this.
Turning her pale blue gaze to the sky, she closed her eyes and began the invocation for her Stormbringer spell. The words rolled off her tongue fluidly as she spoke to the sky, asking nature to send a whirlwind to her aide. Though she wasn't quite sure how cooperative it would be, as the elements were fickle and did not like to be controlled. As her opponent stated, however, this was what the battle was for.
Fionchaor waited patiently as the hybrid steeled herself. In the modern world, bringing deliberate harm to another was not an easy task for anyone, but especially so for the peaceful fey and those that inherited their blood. It went against everything in their nature. That said, Aleanette picked it up faster than he would have expected. Fionchaor did not even realise until a chill settled over him from the darkening sky. It must have been her elven half.
The winds picked up around him, encasing him in a memory of winter's bite. Stray leaves and flowers were ripped from their stems and pulled into a vortex. As they whipped fast around him, they cut faint scratches into his skin. Fionchaor raised a hand to shield his eyes. “Good!” he called to the hybrid over the wind. “Keep it up!”
As the winds that answered her whipped about Fionchoar, Aleanette faltered. She knew that she could--and would--heal him once this sparring session was over, but that didn't stop her fey heart from crying out as she dealt even the smallest amount of damage to him. Though, in all honesty, she was rather grateful the winds hadn't decided to cause more than a few scrapes and scratches with the foliage it carried. Still, she released the spell almost as soon as she heard him call out. Most of her wanted to run to him just to make sure he was well and truly all right, but another part told her to stand her ground.
For a moment, she stood frozen and unsure of what to do. Her eyes were wide as she contemplated her next move. Should she stay on the offensive, or replenish her magic and let him take a shot at her? Chewing her lip, she made her decision as she took a step back. She slipped her hand into a hidden pocket on her dress, pulling out a pen to inscribe the symbols for Soothe onto the soft flesh of her wrist.
The winds died back down to gentle breeze, as the fey's assault came to an end. Fionchaor lowered his arm from his eyes. He could feel over a dozen little stinging cuts from where the storm had struck him, but nothing too bad. Meanwhile Aleanette had withdrew. Rather than strike him again while he was vulnerable, she took the time to inscribe a rune on her wrist. That was a mistake.
Fionchaor extended his arm, reaching into the essence of the nearby flora. Vines rushed up from the ground behind the fey and snapped around her wrists. Several more circled around her ankles, restricting her movement. “Keep your eyes on me,” Fionchaor instructed.
Reply
