weather. a storm of sorts, be it snow, sleet, rain, etc.
she smells it before the cloud rolls in overhead. she frowns and buttons down the top flap of her quiver to protect her arrows from the upcoming rain. "Oi," she calls out, "Storms coming in. How much further are we?"
Emilia turns her chin up, looking toward the horizon and humming to herself.
"Good." Zylnia blanches, "I don't know if you realise it but wet arrows don't do shit." Smirking, Emilia tosses Zylnia one of the daggers she hides inside her crimson cloak, those that are tucked just within grasp to be able to throw them at any given chance.
"You must learn how to adapt to your surroundings and environments."
Zylnia frowns, nearly fumbling to catch the dagger. "I don't understand why you're so batshit sometimes but so relaxed any other time." She holds the dagger in her palm, feeling the cool leather hilt against her palm. The steel of the dagger is sharpened on both sides, sliding up to a dangerous point.
"With a bow and arrow you hold your breath and release upon well, release," Emilia's voice rings out as she steps towards the base of a thick oak tree, "With a weapon like a dagger, you have to learn how to thrust the blade and how to personally witness death before you."
Zylnia chuckles at the wording from her mentor but doesn't comment on them, surprisingly knowing better at this point.
"Throw it at me."
Zylnia nearly drops the dagger.
"What if I miss and hit you? I don't know a damn thing about medicine." Emilia smiles, pressing her back against the oak tree. Thunder crashes around them, somehow seeming amplified through the forest they're in. The applause of rain hits them soon after, a downpour in seconds leaving both mentor and mentee drenched to the bone. Emilia stares at the half elf, blinking the rain drops away from her eyes.
"Well, Zylnia?" Emilia calls out, "Are you a Boreva or are you a Rockcut?"
Zylnia grips the dagger, nostrils flaring. "I'm whoever the fuck I want to be."
She throws the dagger at the blink of an eye. Her fingertips kissing the blade forward, guiding it in front of her as it sails through the air. She feels that time begins to fade around her, slowing as she watches the dagger and the woman on the other side of the weapon.
Thunder slams through again, Zylnia flinches and blinks only to open her eyes and see the dagger lodged just shy of Emilia's left eye. She grins.
"Boreva."
"counting"
---------
one.
two.
three.
four.
five.
thwip
the hum of the bowstring quickly quiets as the arrow sinks into the hay filled dummy fifty meters away. grinning, she looks over her right shoulder. "I thought you said I needed to practice more?"
The woman behind her clicks her tongue, extending a black leather gloved hand as she points to the next target. Zylnia sighs, taking her eyes off the woman and focusing on the dummy. "Count the time between inhales, pull the string, release on the exhale."
inhale.
one.
two.
three.
four.
five.
thwip
exhale.
the arrow sails through the space between herself and the wall, implanting where a chin would be on the dummy's head. "You didn't count long enough."
"Emilia, this isn't fair."
Emilia feigns concern, lower lip extended in a dramatic pout. "I didn't recall asking for your sass, Zylnia. I did the same exercises as you when I was your age, and now I cannot be out-shot."
Zylnia gazes back at her teacher, the wisps of grey at the front of her scalp are growing thicker amongst the chestnut colour of her hair. Her green eyes still sparkle, but the crows feet along the sides are more prominent. She has laugh lines, ones that perfectly frame her cheeks and deepen whenever Zylnia does exactly as she's instructed. Aging has graced Emilia Boreva well.
"Are you finished gawking?" she asks, arms crossed over her chest. Zylnia nods quietly, pulling the front of her chest as she stares down the lane. "Now seventy five meters. Count your breaths."
