|| 8th Summer, 514AV || The Storm Shrine, Zeltiva || 10th Bell ||
It had come as a shock to Ayatah when she received a request from the Marital Association to assist in the training of someone else. It had only happened once before - when a timid little thing wanted to learn about dagger fighting - and the poor girl had run away sobbing mere chimes into the lesson. Ayatah hadn't even hit her that hard. Ridiculous!
She hoped that this new mystery person (her student? Could she really class herself as a teacher?) would fare better under her supervision. As long as she didn't shout too much, or hit too hard, they should both walk away unscathed and without too much emotional damage either.
Having lived in Zeltiva for an astonishing nearly two years now, Ayatah had realised that old habits did not, after all, die at all. Sure, she had... perhaps softened over time, in terms of how she socialised with other people and how she spoke. But when it came to sparring, Ayatah seemed to return to the heady jungle city of Taloba, becoming the fierce Myrian warrior she had been, once upon a long time ago.
Rather concerning, however, it was becoming more and more difficult for Ayatah to remember minor details of her jungle home. Whilst shopping in Zeltiva, she commonly discussed with the vendors about how much their wares would sell for in Taloba's market. Once, she had had an in depth conversation with a tradesman about Taloba's thriving market for fur coats. Oh, she had jabbed on and on about the latest fashions in Taloba, how his beautiful coats and scarves would sell for a small fortune in her home city. And she had truly believed it herself... Until she returned home that night and replayed the conversation in her mind. Only then did she remember: the weather in Taloba is too damning hot for fur coats. A person would die of heatstroke in less than a bell.
She should have laughed at her own stupidity, but instead Aya had sat on the corner of her bed, absolutely appalled. How could she have forgotten the climate of her homeland? Had it really been that long?!
In fact, she had felt so terrible about it all, she had had to gorge on chocolates and wine that evening to try and make herself feel better. Only to realise, in a truly bittersweet moment of drunken clarity, how very un-Myrian gorging on wine and chocolates actually was. Luckily by then, Ayatah had cared very little about anything at all, and had enjoyed the rest of her wine with great gusto.
So, given her current state of inner turmoil, it was a welcome relief (if an unexpected one) for Ayatah to be invited to spar. It would hopefully reawaken some memories of her jungle home, so she wouldn't feel quite so... un-Myrian all the time.
The Storm Shrine had remained largely unchanged in the years Ayatah had been in Zeltiva, and for that she was thankful. It was comforting to see her place of training in the city had not changed, even if she had. The more she thought about it, the more Ayatah realised that the Shrine was a strange location to train and spar at. But she came here more out of habit, having been bought here by her own Martial Association trainer Nuvro when she first moved into the city.
Oh how the tables have turned. Ayatah thought to herself, placing her satchel bag down. Inside it, she had bought the basic tools of a sparring session: wooden weapons that were designed to feel and carry like the real deal but were slightly less deadly, and a wooden shield. Also inside the bag were a few more obscure items, namely a wooden plank of wood and three juggling balls. The satchel had come from Nuvro himself, who had some... interesting teaching techniques to say the least.
She tied her hair up in a tradition Myrian bun (hey, she wasn't about to forget the important stuff like Myrian beauty regimes) and plucked a wooden double-bladed dagger out of her bag.
She was ready and raring to go.
It had come as a shock to Ayatah when she received a request from the Marital Association to assist in the training of someone else. It had only happened once before - when a timid little thing wanted to learn about dagger fighting - and the poor girl had run away sobbing mere chimes into the lesson. Ayatah hadn't even hit her that hard. Ridiculous!
She hoped that this new mystery person (her student? Could she really class herself as a teacher?) would fare better under her supervision. As long as she didn't shout too much, or hit too hard, they should both walk away unscathed and without too much emotional damage either.
Having lived in Zeltiva for an astonishing nearly two years now, Ayatah had realised that old habits did not, after all, die at all. Sure, she had... perhaps softened over time, in terms of how she socialised with other people and how she spoke. But when it came to sparring, Ayatah seemed to return to the heady jungle city of Taloba, becoming the fierce Myrian warrior she had been, once upon a long time ago.
Rather concerning, however, it was becoming more and more difficult for Ayatah to remember minor details of her jungle home. Whilst shopping in Zeltiva, she commonly discussed with the vendors about how much their wares would sell for in Taloba's market. Once, she had had an in depth conversation with a tradesman about Taloba's thriving market for fur coats. Oh, she had jabbed on and on about the latest fashions in Taloba, how his beautiful coats and scarves would sell for a small fortune in her home city. And she had truly believed it herself... Until she returned home that night and replayed the conversation in her mind. Only then did she remember: the weather in Taloba is too damning hot for fur coats. A person would die of heatstroke in less than a bell.
She should have laughed at her own stupidity, but instead Aya had sat on the corner of her bed, absolutely appalled. How could she have forgotten the climate of her homeland? Had it really been that long?!
In fact, she had felt so terrible about it all, she had had to gorge on chocolates and wine that evening to try and make herself feel better. Only to realise, in a truly bittersweet moment of drunken clarity, how very un-Myrian gorging on wine and chocolates actually was. Luckily by then, Ayatah had cared very little about anything at all, and had enjoyed the rest of her wine with great gusto.
So, given her current state of inner turmoil, it was a welcome relief (if an unexpected one) for Ayatah to be invited to spar. It would hopefully reawaken some memories of her jungle home, so she wouldn't feel quite so... un-Myrian all the time.
The Storm Shrine had remained largely unchanged in the years Ayatah had been in Zeltiva, and for that she was thankful. It was comforting to see her place of training in the city had not changed, even if she had. The more she thought about it, the more Ayatah realised that the Shrine was a strange location to train and spar at. But she came here more out of habit, having been bought here by her own Martial Association trainer Nuvro when she first moved into the city.
Oh how the tables have turned. Ayatah thought to herself, placing her satchel bag down. Inside it, she had bought the basic tools of a sparring session: wooden weapons that were designed to feel and carry like the real deal but were slightly less deadly, and a wooden shield. Also inside the bag were a few more obscure items, namely a wooden plank of wood and three juggling balls. The satchel had come from Nuvro himself, who had some... interesting teaching techniques to say the least.
She tied her hair up in a tradition Myrian bun (hey, she wasn't about to forget the important stuff like Myrian beauty regimes) and plucked a wooden double-bladed dagger out of her bag.
She was ready and raring to go.
|| Ayatah's speech || Ayatah's thoughts || Others' speech ||
