Betterment (Kayiri)

[Denen Sunsinger]

Fall 72 Denen was quiet. This was not abnormal for him, of course, but it was something that had been intensified as of late. He tugged at the scarf around his head, positioning it over his ears, and sucked on his lower lip as he walked. His thin hands wrung together, and he tugged anxiously at the bottom of his tunic. His blue eyes were thoughtful, almost glowering at the effort and set beneath furrowed brows. He smoothed the tunic over his legs, giving a soft, trembling sigh. A hand rose absently, pushing soft, dark hair out of his face, though it fell back immediately. He gave a murmured sigh and his shoulders slumped slightly. So many people knew so much more than he did, even in his own family. He thought of the men his older brothers were, of how strong they were. It was difficult to live up to the healers they were, and the men in general. His eldest brother was twenty-four years older than Denen, and he had never been close to any of them, missing, therefore, chances to learn what they might teach him. He had wanted to ask Sam for help, but he had been embarrassed to think that he should have to ask Sam to teach him how to defend himself. He wanted to impress his friends, and he doubted that not even knowing how to hold a blade wouldn't help him with that. He thought of the people he had met on the Hunt, and one came to mind. Kayiri. He was kind, and not as intimidating as some of the others. After a great deal of peptalking himself, Denen gathered the humility required to ask someone to teach him a basic skill. He asked around and was, at last directed in the proper direction. His slender hands shook, arms rigid at his sides. How did one even ask such things? This was mortifying. He caught sight of Kayiri, and he trembled as he moved to stand near him, waiting for him to finish a discussion with another before he sought to catch his attention.

[Kayiri]

"So what do you think we should do, Kayiri? You are the one who will be leading this family when I die, it is unavoidable. You should start making decisions now, so that I can criticize them and correct them before the lives of our entire family line are placed into your hands," the older man spoke swiftly. Kayiri sighed deeply, thinking for a few moments before answering.

"We should take the opportunity the Windsingers are presenting by leaving, and bring the Pavilion in closer to the city. Not only will we benefit from more protection, we'll have to ride less to get to where we're going in the mornings," Kayiri recited the decision and list of supporting facts from his memory. The older man nodded, and smiled. "That is what I would have done, as well. You are learning, Son," and with that, the older man was off. A sigh found its way into the world from Kayiri's lips as he turned, running a hand from his forehead over his hair, as if he was smoothing it out. As he was scanning, his eyes fell upon Denan, and a smile played across his face.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite apothecary," Kayiri said, approaching the man. He pulled Denan into a manly embrace of manlitude, thumping him on the back with a laugh. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company? I haven't seen you since the Hunt. Ah, how glorious that was," the Drykas entered a state of silent reminiscence for a moment, before snapping back to reality. His eyes danced over Denan once, and then he spoke again. "You're looking thin. We need to put some muscle on you lad, show you off to the ladies at the Trough," Kayiri said, winking playfully and laughing. He backed up slightly, considering he had been holding him at arms length after their embrace.

"Come on, we can walk while we talk. I have to do a few things around the Pavilion," Kayiri spoke, hopping from the moving wooden structure. He grabbed a basket of dried meats, putting it on the end of a stick. He repeated this with the second basket, and then he began walking, circling the Pavilion to store it away. "So, how've you been as of late?"

[Denen Sunsinger]

Stone would have no sooner sought his youngest son in counsel than fly. What did Denen know of leading? He had always hidden in the background, doing as he was told without question, compliant and gentle. He did what was expected of him, and never sought or desired to lead or have any authority in his Pavilion. His father, the ankhal, was more than capable, and he had for adult brothers who could easily take over should something happen. Denen was forgotten. He had been raised by and amongst the women, and Stone always said, with a begrudging fondness, that his youngest son had grown soft from it. Denen knew his father loved him, but it was difficult to fully appreciate it when he spent so little time with him, or when he knew that Stone could not be bothered to see the things he worked so hard on. Denen was not one to demand attention, but seeing others with their attentive fathers often made him wish Stone would do so for him. He stood quietly as he watched Kayiri, and something similar to an ache filled his stomach hollowly. Was it envy? Perhaps. Still, when Kayiri spoke to him, he offered a genuine smile. He accepted and returned the embrace, though the wind was quite nearly knocked out of him as the other patted him firmly on the back. He lacked the sturdy build of many of his people, and it made such encounters almost painful. He wasn't fully sure of how to address what it was that he wanted now. As such, he simply smiled and let the moment of reflection carry out. When it was finished, and he was released, he glanced down to try and gather his words. He did not wish to speak in his usual, clumsy manner. This was important, after all. "I wanted to...to ask you something," he began, but was cut off by the remark about his thinness. His hand slipped to his side, rubbing it self consciously. The ladies? Oh, gods above, Denen didn't...His face flushed, and he swallowed hard. "Oh...Oh, it's a-all right. I...I d-d-don't think I would...would be r-ready for that." He moved to help Kayiri with the baskets. As he walked, he made sure to keep step, though it was difficult, so that he would be able to know what was being said to him. "I...I've been well," he answered, his sweet smile crossing his gentle features. It wasn't fully true, though. His ears had been aching more than he liked to admit, and he couldn't seem to figure out how to make it stop. "I hope...I hope you have also." That, however, was completely true. Kayiri was nice, and Denen hoped everything went well for him.

[Kayiri]

The Drykas's muscles rippled as he lifted the rod above his head, placing it on the moving Pavilion. He then grabbed onto the lip, heaving himself up. Once he was aboard, he lowered his hand over the edge to help Denen, uncertain as to whether or not the man could get up himself. Then, taking one basket in both hands, he approached on of the tents erected on the moving structure. The pair entered it and deposited their burdens, Kayiri laughing ever so slightly as he did so.

"Bloody Venison. You wonder how something so heavy runs so quickly!" he commented, clapping his beefy hands together. He then turned to the younger man, tilting his head curiously. Not ready for the women? The boy was, what, seventeen? He should be out trying to bed as many women as he could, like every other damned boy his age! He needed to help the boy out of his shell. Yes, that must be it. Kayiri nodded certainly to himself.

"I have been well, as well. Thank you for the concern," he then spoke kindly. "Now, what is it you wanted to ask me?" the man asked, turning and exiting the tent. His quick pace brought them too another tent, which he quickly entered. Wooden weapons of all sorts were arranged inside, along with racks of the real things. He began arranging them neatly and orderly, humming quietly as he did so.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen couldn't help but admire Kayiri's strength. He might not have found himself attracted to the other, but he could appreciate beauty when he saw it. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away so that Kayiri wouldn't think he was staring. He thought of his own, scrawny body, and he could not help but feel jealous of the other. Kayiri was what every Drykas boy dreamed of growing up to be. Even Denen had at some point, if only to escape being teased for being so soft and feminine. He accepted the offered hand, following after Kayiri quietly. He smiled as Kayiri spoke. "Th-They look so l-l-light when they...run." He felt silly, with Kayiri looking at him like that. He hadn't told anyone beyond Aiken and Sam about his...tastes. He was too scared of his father's reaction to let anyone know. Stone was a very stern, very protective man, and the boy wasn't eager to test out his father's anger, as he had yet to ever be in any true, deep trouble with him. Denen was quiet a moment, pondering the right way to go about asking for the thing he wanted. But as he was led into a tent with wooden weaponry, it seemed an ideal place to put forth the question. "I...I'm not very good with w-weapons, Kayiri. I'm...s-s-sure you noticed this. Actually, I...I'm horrible. I...I want to learn to...b-be a little better. I think...I think it w-would make my...my f-father happy." And to be honest, it was all he could dream of to hear praise from Stone Brokensong.

[Kayiri]

So the boy wanted to learn how to fight. He wanted to learn how to use a weapon, so that he could defend his family and home, so that he could take lives in the name of honor and glory! Haha! He could make a man out of this boy yet! A grin played across Kayiri's face, as a hand shot out. Fingers wrapped around a wooden sword. With a single motion, the man tossed it across the tent to Denen, letting it slide across the ground before it reached the man. Another hand shot out and grasped an identical weapon. Then, the man spun around, facing Denen.

"Well then, Denen, you've come to the right man. I'll teach you from the ground up, and by the time I'm through with you, you'll be able to kick a Zith in the ass and send it running back to whatever twisted hole it crawled out of!" the Drykas declared proudly, laughing loudly. He exited the tent, and upon reaching an open stretch of the Pavilion, unsheathing his real sword. A hand unhooked the sheath from his belt. Silently, he approached Denen, holding out the two separate items. When they were taken, he took the wooden sword and spoke.

"First things first, lets practice sheathing the thing. Sorry if the hilt is a bit long for you, it's made for my hands," Kayiri began, dropping the wooden weapons so he could clap his hands together. "The first part of using your weapon is knowing how to draw and stow it quickly and properly. I drew it for you. Hook the sheath on to your belt, and stow it. Stay your hand! A shaking hand will hinder your efforts!" his voice was passionate and focused. Obviously, he had spent ever so slightly too much time teaching novices these lessons. In the mean time, Kayiri retreated back into the tent, sifting through the swords for one of a smaller size than his.

Aha, there! One with a smaller hilt than his own! The Drykas took it from the rack, and emerged once more. He waited a few moment, and then approached Denen. "Here, it might be ever so slightly easier with a more properly sized weapon," he then suggested helpfully. A smile was still situated on his tanned and scarred face. The man obviously took great joy in mentoring. After all, both of his jobs consisted of teaching beginners and/or novices.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen was fairly sure he was getting in over his head, but that might have been an unsure reaction to the frightening gleam that suddenly sprang into Kayiri's eye. Oh, goddess, he was in trouble. His jaw dropped a little, and his eyes widened, giving him the look of a frightened fish for a moment. He had a sudden feeling that he was going to end up with more bruises than he had bargained for. Kayiri was scary when he was happy. He didn't really care so much about kicking Zith ass, or even about killing anything, especially for honor. Bonking a lion on the head had been more than enough excitement for him. But it would have been nice to at least defend himself. He accepted the offered sword and scabbard, and looked down at them as though he were holding explosives. What if he dropped the sword and hurt someone? Didn't Kayiri know that Denen was a complete klutz? Maybe starting with a feather would have been better. Oh, goddess, this was a bad plan. His face flushed as he was told to steady his hand, and he did his best, fastening the thing to his leather belt. He was relieved when Kayiri returned with something a little less deadly. He held out the other's sword for him to take back, and accepted the smaller sword instead. "Th-Thanks," he stammered. He tried to sheath the blade, like Kayiri had instructed, and then to draw it, though he wasn't sure he was doing it right, or with enough flair for Kayiri's tastes.

[Kayiri]

Note for ModeratorI also have a video for this move if I describe it poorly

The younger man had good reason to be utterly terrified of the older man at this point in time. Kayiri was lost in his teaching, lost in his passion of swordfighting, lost in the passion of transferring his sacred knowledge to another human being. He would teach Denen every last bit of how to be a warrior! Every last bit! He would teach him how to breathe like a warrior, how to sleep like a warrior, how to piss like a warrior, if he had to! Kayiri shook his head as he watched Denen sheathe and unsheathe the sword, declaring sharply and finally, displeasure in his tone, but also a slight hint of patience. "No, no! You're not drawing your sword for fun! You're drawing your sword because you are about to engage in glorious battle, to defend your own life and the lives of those you love!" a flame caught in Kayiri's green eyes as he looked at the wiry healer before him. His next words were much louder in tone.

"DO IT WITH FEELING, BOY! MORE FEELING! SCREAM LIKE A MAN! LET YOUR ENEMY'S BLOOD CURDLE IN THEIR VEINS IN FEAR!" the warrior thumped his chest as he screamed, bellowing forth a loud "Haaooh!" he went red in the face, and if it weren't for the fact that he screamed like that so often, his voice would have gone hoarse. Even now, he could feel the scratching tickle at the back of his throat. Ignore it! He had to make a man out of Denen! Had to teach him how to use a sword! Inquisitive eyes watched studiously as the man sheathed and re-sheathed the blade, hopefully with more feeling. The moment he felt Denen had an at least comfortable grip on the concept, he moved on, standing next to Denen, holding the sword in his right hand.

"When you strike with your sword, make your strikes short. Short movements with powerful force, don't let your opponent predict your movements, or he will be able to move and counter the blow, most likely with a parry powerful enough to free up enough space to make an attack of his own. This can never be allowed in combat. We'll start with a basic strike, a simple horizontal cut," the man turned so he was facing somewhat more to the right than he was before. His sword was back up over his shoulder, his left arm balancing his body, held up in front of his chest. "First, you rotate your hip, giving most of the speed and power to the strike," the man began, demonstrating with a quick twist of his hips. "Then, you bring the arm across the chest, and finally, extend the elbow," he demonstrated both motions slowly, eventually ending with his sword fully extended in front of him. He then ran through the motions twice quickly, in a full swing, his blade singing through the air, trying to impress the young boy next to him.

When he was done with his little display of skill, he turned to Denen, backing up a bit to provide him with all the room he provided. "Go on, then! I'll correct any mistakes I see. Don't want to train you with a flaw that leads to your death! That won't weigh well on my-- or anyone's-- conscience at all, so learn right now, boy!"

[Denen Sunsinger]

Dear, sweet goddess, Kayiri wasn't just scary. He was downright terrifying. Denen looked up at him with huge eyes, wondering how in the world one person could house so much testosterone without exploding into a thousand tiny bits of Drykas manliness. It was a sort of passion that completely baffled Denen. He was a healer, after all. It was his job to patch up men like Kayiri who went out and got themselves hurt playing hero. Why had he wanted this again? Oh, yes. To impress his father. Maybe this hadn't been the best way to go about it, though he momentarily wondered if Kayiri's screaming might knock the hearing back into his ears. His jaw dropped a little. How could he draw his sword wrong? Was there a right and a wrong way to reach the same end? The sword was out of the sheath, wasn't it? The flame that sparked in Kayiri's eye did not go unnoticed by the healer, and served as a small warning of the sudden booming that was about to shake his face. Thank the gods I'm deaf, he thought, and likely for the first time in his life. His eyes went as wide as saucers, and a combination of vocal vibrations and spittle met with his pretty features. He gulped and looked up to Kayiri as a stunned child might look upon a bear. Unsure of how to handle the situation but too scared to run away like he probably should have. “Uh...” Kayiri's next cry was enough to make even the deaf boy jump, and he bit his lower lip, brows knitting. He attempted the process again, doing it with as much feeling as he could muster, though he felt admittedly ridiculous putting that much passion into drawing a sword. He wondered if Kayiri would have felt the same seeing Denen and Dymphna go all gaga over herbs. Kayiri was speaking, and Denen had to focus very hard to catch all of what was being said. His brows furrowed, and he blinked several times. It was all going so fast, and he didn't really understand even half of it. This wasn't his line of work! Why, for the love of the gods, was he holding a sword? A sudden panic filled his chest, and crossed his features. He was going to mess it all up! He tried to position himself like Kayiri, glad at least that he wasn't yelling at him any more. He couldn't think straight, and the added pressure was hardly helping. He wasn't very graceful, and he worried that he'd trip or something, and accidentally chop off Kayiri's hand or...nose, or something even more valuable. It'd be his luck, and he momentarily wondered whether or not Kayiri might be a bit insane to attempt to teach someone like himself. But then, his passion for swordplay was admirable. It was something Denen respected in all people. If they were going to be something, they might as well be completely insane over it. And on top of that, it got Denen thinking. His job may have been keeping people safe from illness and helping to cure them of sickness and injury, but it was Kayiri's to prevent physical harm from coming to the people. What would he, frail, little Denen Brokensong have done if Sam was threatened? His stomach twisted, and he looked a little pale. With these thoughts in mind, it was easier to feel passion for what he was trying to teach himself. He grit his teeth, and mimicked Kayiri's instructions. Hip rotated, arm came across his chest, and he brought the sword down in a quick, surprisingly powerful swing. And behind that swing? He inhaled as much air as he could, and cried out, “HAAOOH!” The sound was such that it startled himself, and he looked to Kayiri as if alarmed. “I...I...L-L-Like that?”

[Kayiri]

A large grin erupted on Kayiri's face as Denen's scream echoed throughout the Pavilion, even managing to spill forth from the gathering of tents and roll out into the surrounding grasslands. A brilliant laugh soon followed in its wake, one more fit for a berserker than a level-headed trainer. "Perfect!" he declared, slamming an open palm onto his thigh as he continued to laugh with satisfaction. Sweat was already beading on his arms and face, despite the fact that the cool of the impending Winter was already engulfing them. "More swings, Denen, more," he then demanded, his tone more level and much quieter than it had been mere moments before. "I saw no flaws in your previous, do them all like that one. Execute them all perfectly. Imagine that this swipe leads the blade through the gut of the enemies of the Drykas. Imagine that this swipe makes you a hero!" More words of encouragement poured from Kayiri's mouth like water did from atop a waterfall, assailing Denen's deaf ears without mercy.

When Kayiri was satisfied with Denen's ability to cut properly, he made a quick motion for him to stop. Quickly, he dragged, him along, bringing him before a few training dummies. "Now, we move into thrusts," he said calmly, holding his sword in his right hand still. "Once more, you can never overdramaticize your thrusts. They must be quick affairs, and often, it is best to make your thrusts disguised within cuts," Kayiri, as he was saying this, brought his sword back for a cut, and upon finishing, brought his blade forth in a lazy arc, exhaling as it went forward slowly enough for Denen to follow. When the blade connected, he quickly drew back halfway, shifting his arm so that the tip of his blade face the dummy. A quick forward movement of his upper body delivered the tip of his blade into the chest of the dummy, where it bit into the wood. A little yank freed the tip of his sword from the confines of the dummy, and then he did not hesitate to turn around and face Denen again.

"Show me a few thrusts, accompanied by some cuts, and we'll be done for today," he said simply, nodding in resolution. He sat down nearby, watching Denen with the eagle-like eyes of a mentor, watching for flaws. However, even though his eagle-eyed gaze followed Denen, his mind was elsewhere. Yes. He would take the boy to The Trough after this.

A man he would be.