50th Day of Winter, 510 A.V.
Hatot stood at the front of his training room, his stance was loose and almost flowing as arm movements were slow, moving forward as his fingers were extended, his body twisting in with each strike. It was almost like a flowing water as his legs bent and upper body arched back on some occasions, his movements gradually increasing in speed. Eventually his hands began moving in blurred motions, lashing out in quick snaps as his body twisted quickly, putting most of his weight into each strike. His feet shifted back and forth almost instinctively every time his body leaned or swayed, constantly maintaining his balance, even in what seemed like awkward bends and twists.
Soon Hatot was beginning to sweat, as beads of perspiration formed over his brow. His body began ducking and rising, strikes being thrown out at various points along what would be the anatomy of a body should an opponent have been standing before Hatot. It was often that Hatot practiced between sessions with students, of which he had many coming. Many of the Akalak’s of late knew of his progression, and of his growing skill. More than a handful of them were troubled, like Hatot had been at their age. They struggled with their dark soul, their angered or malicious brother. Hatot had his own experience with Radris, and through his own interactions with Kavala, he had managed to begin his own balance with him. His own walk through life, allowed him to impart that experience upon others as a teacher.
Many of them may have needed different approaches, different talks, but in the end they all worked towards the same ends: Getting the two souls to work with one another, rather than resist each other. That was the largest challenge by far for Akalaks. Two souls, so different in nature, finding a way to work with another because they could never, at any time in their life, be rid of one another. Those Akalak who didn’t manage often found their faces tattooed and joining the ranks of the Cerulean. Because most often, it was the light soul giving way to the dark soul, and giving them more dominant control of the body.
“I could use a drink.” Radris suddenly echoed in to Hatot’s head. “You going to be done with your imaginary opponent soon?”
Hatot couldn’t help but smirk. Radris didn’t like just open handed practice in the end, he preferred something tangible that he could strike, and leave marks on. It was his form of practice in the end, and in a way, the more effective one. However Hatot didn‘t feel fighting was a necessity every time they worked on improving themselves. “Not right now Radris, we have two more classes today,” Hatot echoed back, “and appearing before our students with bruises and cuts from a brawl will send the wrong message.”
“I don’t think so,” Radris replied, “in fact if they see us with our battle wounds, they know that we use our skills, That they both effective, but not perfect either.”
“It was not the effectiveness of our skill that I would worry relaying, but the method of employing the skill.” Hatot said as he ducked, stepping forward before his hand swung back, almost forming a hook like shape. “We do not want our students moving out and picking fights as a way of practice. I’ll let you take over and head out for your practice later on.”
“Oh, alright. Just feel bored is all.” Radris echoed, giving a mild grumble.
