@HereComesTheSnow
"I can't imagine his was any softer, though. Seems like growing a hard head is a defense mechanism." Blade up again, over the left shoulder.
"Florian didn't really say anything like that to me, though. There wasn't much opportunity to speak it felt like." He surged forward like a spring suddenly released, point flying out towards his imaginary target as he stepped slightly to the left. Changing the line of engagement. Stopped as though parried; raised his blade to cover, imaginary opposition sliding off his flat as he stepped back to the right, blade whirling in a tight cut down into the short guard.
A quick jab forwards, arms extended in long guard for a moment, before drawing back,
posta frontale, ready to defend from any retaliation. A smooth progession, a sequence fast even for a trained eye, though Gerard at least would recognize how slowly and deliberately Fionn was stepping through it, his focus drawn almost entirely inward, away from the conversation.
"When he did, though..."He stepped forward again, blade rising to turn a probing thrust; their blades met again in the eerie silence, points brushing against one another lighter than a feather. The touch was almost soft-like the breath of a breeze in spring, ahead of an oncoming storm. A gentleness belying the killing intent that drove the probing contact. For all that Fionn knew his skills with a longsword were very proficient-some might even say excellent-he knew the knight across from him was perfect.
"Reactionary," the other observed in a clinical tone. "Defensive, restrained...but brutal. Curious combination." The pressure eased off for a moment, the other's tip circling around, changing the angle for a the barest moment to seek an opening. Fionn responded in kind, restoring the original orientation just as the knight lunged; the thrust was beaten down and aside, and he stepped forwards, a quick cut towards the other's face. The other blade came back up just as quickly, a hanging guard, now the blades crossed at the forte.
Both knights as tight into each other as their bladework had been.Fionn stepped forwards quickly, bringing his pommel up towards his imagined foe's face. Continuing past, whirling around again, blade once again crossed with some unseen enemy, nearly nose to nose.
Stretto, as he'd been taught to call such a close distance.
"He didn't really focus on anything about technique with me," he continued, pausing for a moment.
Didn't call out any deficiencies or the like. I think he knew that I know where I lack. Just commenting on my thought process."There were opportunities. Seize his blade and strike low. Step off line and continue in with a pommel strike to the face or neck. Wrap his blade beneath the guard and send the other's flying, grasp his arms and throw his opponent down across his leg. But in each opportunity, an obvious invitation, any number of chances to counter, to make each opening a trap.
Their steps continued, each twisting on the balls of their feet to face each other again. Himself back-weighted, blade across his shoulders. Aggressive and inviting. The other, forward-weighted, blade low and to the side. Solid and indomitable."No sense prolonging the fight-or the suffering," he replied. "It's quicker. Direct, like." Almost as one they shifted stances; his blade came forward slightly, point threatening the other, hilt high next to his brow. The other shifting back, blade closer in, in-line, but still down. The traps remained clear.Damn you, Florian, he thought suddenly. He almost thought he saw the hint of a smile on the Mirror Knight's face. Not Cyrus, not Parvan, I have to get the knight that wants to pick me apart inside and out. He wasn't sure how long they'd been at this back-and-forth, constantly feeling the other out, but compared to the speed with which most of his engagements usually ended it felt like an eternity."No reason to waste time and energy.""That's not all there is, is it?" Florian asked, his cheeks as of yet unmarred by the sweat that beaded on Fionn's own. "Such a valiant, true, idealistic knight. Guide, advisor, and protector, defensive even in your manner of fighting. Truly one that Lady Mayon would favour...but we both know it isn't borne out of any deep altruism, just that you've turned it to serve your nobler impulses."Florian stepped forward, feinting another lunging thrust into a low cut instead. There was a chance there - lunge forwards, take the blade under his ribs in return for planting his point in Florian's throat. No winner. An obvious double, but not bait. Another test.He came down into the short guard on the right, catching the cut and keeping his point on line. Florian retreated a step, and their blades once more crossed at the point."You don't just enjoy the combat. The test. Not like you convince yourself you do." Even as much as this had been the best bout Fionn had been in for an age, it felt like, he almost had to admit that Florian was right. The prolongation dampening his enjoyment, but not utterly extinguishing it. "You want to win. You want to dominate, don't you? To command, to control. You love breaking people. Tell me, MacKerracher, if you could end a fight in a single stroke, or a war, even if it meant you didn't personally win, would you really do it?""Aye, Florian, I would," he growled under his breath, lunging forwards in the well-trampled dirt of the training yard. Blade rising to a feinted thrust; without missing a step he shifted his grip on his pommel, blade whirling around into a devastating rising cut, left hand reversed upon the hilt. His point drifted to the side as though pushed away, before he shifed his hand again, pushing aside an invisible thrust.
He stepped in tight again; his left hand came down to block Florian's arms, his sword rotating, pommel behind Florian's crossguard, and he sent the founding knight's blade flying off to the side as he continued on past. His point drew in again, primed for a thrust—before he felt a quick, pinching pressure under his arm, rapidly shifting to white hot pain. His grip slackened, and within the same heartbeat he was flat on the ground, Florian atop him, both breathing heavily.Another test. To see if he was true to his word. Sure enough, the trap was obvious—such an easily-exploited thrust from that position wasn't something a knight of Florian's caliber would normally do, purely because the chance that he lost his own sword, suffered a broken nose, broken teeth, or any number of worse things was too high. But he'd let himself be disarmed, leaving Fionn dangerously close to planting a blade between his ribs, before tackling the Veltish knight and sticking a dagger in his armpit. Were there other knights there, Fionn fighting alongside comrades as he normally did, Florian would be the dangerous enemy left wide open for reprisal. A desperate attempt to salvage a poor choice for any more normal opponent, but one that had very little chance to succeed beyond the immediate kill.For Florian, just a teaching moment. "Good," the Mirror Knight replied, coming to his feet with a small nod. Overall, it wasn't dissimilar from what he'd done with Jeremiah. Make himself a threat, keep the enemy occupied, and let the others get the actual hits in. Against a lesser foe, this likely would've proved a mutual kill, like some of the other opportunities he'd seen before."Don't lose sight of that." When he rose again, he nodded back as Florian bowed to him, before taking up his sword once more against armoured juggernaut whose corpse his friends had just faced down in the Cazt tomb.Fionn blinked, glancing back at Gerard.
"Sorry, lad. Was I talking to myself there? Still playing it all back in my head."
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