[Flashback] But... This isn't what I want.. [Solo]

[Cicatrice]

Timestamp - Year 501, Spring, Day 16
Purpose of Thread - Sword training
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Cicatrice gave her mother an incredulous stare, stopping midway into her bite. Maeva sat jittery in her chair, eyes darting from the windows to the door, as if the woman expected that at any moment, someone would come into their home to cause them harm, nails tapping irritably on the table top. The woman's muscles were tensed, ready to strike out at whatever seemed threatening to her. Cicatrice broke out of her stupor, giving the woman a disapproving frown.

"Mother, be reasonable.. I don't want to learn how to fight." She insisted, setting down her bread, hands folding in front of her on the table. Maeva turned her intense eyes, bright with suspicion and fear, on to her daughter, baring her teeth in a silent snarl. "And what will you do when they come?! What!? You'll let them take you?!" The woman's voice was high and raspy, suggesting years and years of abuse to her vocal chords. With nearly no warning, Maeva broke down into tears, screaming and wailing into her hands as she brought them up to cover her ace.

Cicatrice flinched, diverting her eyes away from her mother's spectacle. It wasn't fair. She knew that her mother wasn't trying to make her feel guilty with her tears, but it never failed to get her way. She just couldn't stand strong against her mother's cries. "Mother... Please don't cry like this.." She cooed softly, trying to calm her obviously distraught mother. "I'll take the lessons. So please.. Stop crying.." Hoping to comfort her mother, Cicatrice reached out a hand, laying it gently on her shoulder.

It had quite the opposite effect on the woman. With a terrified screech, she slapped the hand her daughter offered, scrambling to her feet and pressing herself defensively against the wall. The two stared wide eyed at each other, silent save for Maeva's heavy breathing as her terror subsided. The world stayed frozen for a moment, until Maeva seemed to realize what she had done. Her gaze drifted down to the floor, turning away. "I...I think I should like to lie down for a while..." She mumbled, tottering off to the bed.

Cicatrice sat quiet for a while after her mother had gone to bed, staring holes into the table top. Giving a soft sigh, the young woman stood from the table, gathering up their leftover food, wrapping it in paper to help it keep overnight. She didn't understand what her mother was so afraid of. She had never spoken about what scared her so, and if Cicatrice ever brought the topic up, her mother went into one of her fits. "I don't even know what it is I'm supposed to fear.." With a frustrated sigh, Ccatrice took her coat, heading out to her lesson.

Impulsive would be another word for her mother, choosing on a whim. But she trusted this instructor enough to allow her daughter to attend his classes. The young woman stuck to the streets that had traffic and people, clinging to the vain hope that if someone were to attack her, at least one person from the crowd would come to her aid. It was unlikely, but it made her feel safe, which made her less of target. She didn't act like a victim.

Following the directions her mother had given her, she made her way over to the address she had been given. Coming upon the building, her eyes narrowed at the sign. "Mr. Talcum's Dance Instructions?" She muttered, not impressed. She had thought her mother had said sword lessons. Had she mixed up the addresses? With only one way to find out, she opened the door, slipping inside. The room was open, with wooden floors and walls. It looked a place where dance instructions would take place, with mirrors lining the one wall.

"I.. Suppose I have the wrong place." She could feel the relief run through her. If her mother had sent her to the wrong place, then she wouldn't have to learn the ways of the sword. With a soft smile, she turned to leave, and promptly had a stick thrown at her, causing a soft squeak to leave her lips. It smaked against her side, clattering to the ground. She turned to see the face of the one who had thrown the stick at her, finding herself looking a thin and wiry man, thick brown curls covering his head, with a full beard.

"Had that been a real sword, I would have had to take you to a healer." The man spoke, his voice oddly musical. Cicatrice dropped her gaze, realizing that the stick was actually a wooden sword. So, she was in the right place after all. "Now, toss it back." Frowning lightly, Cicatrice reached down and picked up the wooden sword, tossing it back to the man. He caught it effortlessly, spinning it around over his wrist. She supposed it was to impress her. "Now, catch it next time."

Even before the sentence was out of his mouth, the sword was in the air again. Fumbling slightly, Cicatrice managed to catch it by the handle. A ghost of a smile crossed the man's lips. "Good. Now, let's see what you can do."

[Cicatrice]

Cicatrice gripped the handle of her sword tightly, not entirely sure how to hold herself. The handle wasn't large enough to be held with two hands, so she kept her free arm by her side. From Mr. Talcum's (she assumed that was who he was) frown, he wasn't impressed. He came forward, grabbing hold of her wrist, tight enough that it nearly hurt. "No no, you're holding your sword all wrong. You do not make a fist around the handle!" He began moving her fingers into place, sometimes into uncomfortable positions. The wooden sword felt heavier like this.

"My wrist isn't strong enough to hold it like that.." She protested quietly, a scowl on her face. Her instructor gave her a scathing look, not happy about her pessimistic attitude. "Well then it will learn to carry the load, now won't it?" He hissed, letting go of her. Cicatrice nearly dropped her weapon once his support was gone, trying to keep her balance. Talcum gave a snicker, stepping over to a rack of wooden swords, taking one for himself. "Now, the sword you are holding is weighted the same as an Estoc. I believe it's balance shall suit you fine."

Cicatrice gave a tired sigh. "Why are you and mother so insistent on me learning how to handle a sword?" She mutter. Talcum didn't answer her, coming around behind her and pushing her into the proper position. "Keep your back straight child. If your posture isn't strong, your sword strokes won't be either." He looked her over disapprovingly, rolling his eyes. "With your strength, you wouldn't last a minute against anyone with any talent." Cicatrice glared harshly.

"If I'm so useless, why are you wasting time on me?! Why not just let me go home?!" She hissed, taking a small swipe at the man with the wooden Estoc. He easily parried her blow, but it brought a smile to his face. "Because you do have talent, and I'm going to bring it out." Cicatrice huffed. What did he mean, talent? She hate hurting people, and the way of the sword was an art of death! She didn't want to have that kind of talent..

"Now, lift your sword. I'm going to show you a few things before you go." Go? Had she been here that long? It didn't seem like it, but maybe the classes were short. Talcum came to stand beside her. "Try and match my movements." He instructed, moving slowly. Cicatrice hesitated a moment, before falling into the movements. While she was still shaky, the movements were meant to be fluid. Like water. And strangely, the motion was calming. She wasn't particularly good, but it brought a smile to Talcum's face.

"Good. That's the idea. The sword is an extension of yourself, always be aware of it." He kept his movements basic, simple enough for Cicatrice to follow along. "No no, you're too rigid. You need to be fluid, just like a flowing stream." Nodding slightly, the girl tried to correct herself, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. Maybe it wasn't so bad for her to learn this.. Talcum ceased his movements, smiling. "Very good. Just a moment, I have something for you." Cicatrice waited patiently as the man disappeared into a separate room.

Violet eyes turned to the mirror, taking in her appearance. A smile was spread across thin lips, and she had never seen her eyes so alive with light. She was excited; she had never been allowed to do anything. This was probably the first time in so long that she hadn't been practicing her fortunes, hiding from an unknown enemy, taking care of her mother.. She was having fun. Talcum returned, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Well, here's your gift. It's not perfect, but it still has an edge." He presented to the young girl a wrapped sword: An Estoc. "Now, this is the most important lesson. I'm giving this to you for your protection, but do not draw this blade, unless you intend to injure or to kill."

Cicatrice froze, looking down at the blade. And was shocked to find her hands reaching out to take it. Talcum's smile was gone, replaced with an intense seriousness, one which she matched. "I promise, I won't draw this blade.." The man gave a stiff nod, turning away. "Go, your mother will start to worry. I expect you back here tomorrow." Cicatrice hesitated a moment, before clutching the blade to her chest, and leaving the building to go home.

[Cicatrice]

Timestamp - Year 501, Spring, Day 18

Violet eyes opened as there was a loud crash in the house, Cicatrice sitting up in her bed. "What in the world was that?" The covers were thrown off, strangely webbed toes touching wooden floors as she ran into the living space. Her mother stood, panting heavily, shards of broken glass scattered all around the ground in front of the door. The young girl stood frozen for a moment, before her mother began shouting. "I know you're still there! Why are you after us?! Leave us alone!!"

"Mother!" Cicatrice called out to her, running over and wrapping her arms around the other woman, holding the woman back. Maeva thrashed and scratched at her daughters arms, shrieking at the top of her lungs.  The young girl shut her eyes tight, holding on tight, trying to focus on something other than the pain. "Calm down mother! Let's go take a seat.." She managed to drag the screaming woman over to a chair, forcing her to sit. "Snap out of it! No one's there, no one's watching us!"

Maeva froze, her green eyes staring up into the concerned violet orbs of her daughter. "I... I'm going to go make breakfast..." Cicatrice sighed as her mother swept past her. She never apologized for her fits, nor did she apologize if she ever hurt the poor girl. It was always like this.. She could feel her eyes welling up, taking a shaky breath. No, she couldn't cry, she wouldn't. Forcing a neutral mask to cover her face, she came into the cooking area, watching her mother. "...Mr. Talcum wants me to come over early today.. So I'll be leaving right after breakfast."

Maeva didn't do anything to acknowledge that the girl had spoken, continuing her work. There was a silence between them, the mother ignoring the world, the daughter unsure of how to act. "...You should just go now." Cicatrice flinched, bowing her head. She didn't say anything, leaving the kitchen to go put on her coat and cap, and left the house. Her mother continued cooking, as if nothing had happened. Cicatrice stomped angrily down the Sunberth streets, a million thoughts and emotions running through her head. She was so mad she wanted to hurt someone, slam her head against a wall, leave her mother to rot alone in their home... But really, all she really wanted to do was cry.

She couldn't prevent the tears from spilling down over her cheeks, but she would not break down sobbing. That would draw a lot of unwanted attention to her. She didn't really know where else to go, so she found her feet heading towards Mr. Talcum's Dance Studio, pushing the door open and just walking in. The man was in the middle of a lesson. A real dance lesson, with a classroom full of young woman with skinny bodies bending in ways she didn't think possible. Talcum turned to look at her, blinking in surprise. "Girls, practice this section for a moment, I'll be just a moment." He addressed the class, heading over to the white haired girl.

A frown crossed the man's face as he saw the tear stains on the youngling's cheeks, leaning in close and speaking with a soft voice. "Do you want to wait in my office? This class is almost over." Cicatrice gave a nod, shuffling into the separate room that served as the man's office, taking a seat in the far corner. She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her forehead against them. She tried not to think about anything, least of all her mother, as she waited for Talcum to finish. She wasn't left waiting for long, the man entering and shutting the door behind him. "Did Maeva do something?"

Cicatrice's eyes widened, looking up at the man with shock. "You.. You know my mother?" She asked, her voice quiet. Talcum smiled lightly. "A long time ago... But that's the past." His hands came down on the young girl's shoulders. "I know how she gets. And the best way to vent your anger, is through your sword." He stood up, holding a hand out to her. "Come, you'll spend your day training with me." A slender hand took his, bringing the young girl to her feet. The tears had stopped, replaced by a slight smile. Talcum brought her out into the dance room, handing her the same wooden sword that she had become accustomed to.

"Lets start with Water One." He said, taking the beginning stance. The sword was held out in a straight line to the side, back completely straight, strong all the way through the entire body strong through the core. The beginning stance was the only time water was rigid. When a lake surface is undisturbed, almost like glass. Cicatrice followed suit, gripping her wooden handle; properly this time. "As we move, keep your body relaxed. The movements should be smooth and flowing. The sword is part of you, and you are water." Their arms began to move in a slow circular motion, feet taking light steps forward.

The circular motions made the most of the Estoc's thin shape and sharp edge. The two went through the movements, until they reached the end. Talcum smiled softly, patting her on the shoulder. "You're no more than a ripple at the moment, but with more training, you shall become a mighty river." Cicatrice smiled, pushing his hand away. "Talcum, why do we compare ourselves to water?" She asked, curiousity laced in her voice. "Because water is fluid, able to change and improvise to changes in it's surroundings. A rigid target can't move around an obstacle. A rigid substance creates a target. You can't stab water, it moves around the blade and continues with it's movements."

Cicatrice listened intently to her instructor, understanding what he meant. Talcum snickered lightly at the look on his young pupil's face, stepping back. "Alright, you've completed Water One, so I'll have you practice that pattern on your own at home. When you can." He grinned, stepping back and holding up his sword. "Now, I'm going to attack you- oh don't give me that look, it won't hurt. And I want you to block, or when you can't, I want you to dodge." Cicatrice had a frown on her face, but she had learned long ago that she had no say in how the lessons went. Talcum smiled brightly as she brought up her wooden sword. "Ready when you are."

[Cicatrice]

There was a moment of quiet, before Cicatrice went into her movement, taking a few steps forward, and swinging down her wooden sword. She didn't find the resistance she was hoping, Talcum stepping to the side and easily avoiding her blow, which left her open, and in motion. It wasn't hard for Talcum to bring his own sword down into her side, making her hiss in pain. "Dead." That was the single word he said, stepping away and back into his ready position. Regaining her balance, Cicatrice gripped on to her sword, ready to strike again. 

With a soft growl, she swept in again, bringing her sword out in a horizontal arc. Yet with almost cat-like speed, Talcum slipped away from her attack, coming behide her and giving her a hard hit on the back of her head. It made he vision swim, and started a pounding headache behind her ears. She turned to face the man, violet eyes glaring hard. He just smiled, and repeated, in his annoyingly high voice "Dead~" An angry hiss left the girl's lips, standing up straight. "Is there some reason you're making me humiliate myself?" She asked scathingly.

Her anger quieted as she saw the disappointment in Talcum's eyes. "To learn is the reason." He said simply, waiting for her attack. Frowning deeply, Cicatrice struck out again an again, trying her damn hardest to land a hit on the slippery man. Each time ended with her receiving a hard blow, followed by an annoying "Dead". She was beginning to hate the man who was her present source of misery. "I hate you." She found herself mumbling. If Talcum ever heard, he hid it well.

Finally, Talcum gave her a particularly hard stab in the chest, pushing the breath out of her. Stumbling back, she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to take in deep gulps of air to catch her breath. Talcum sighed, putting away his wooden sword, and coming over to her. "Now what have we learned today?" he asked the girl.

"That you hit too hard." She muttered, still wheezing. Talcum chuckled, ruffling the girl's hair. "You wouldn't learn anything if I went easy on you." He explained, ignoring the dark glare he received from the young lady. "This sparring match was to show me what you can do, and what I need to help you improve." The man took a glance at the sky outside, smiling. 

"We've been going at this for quite some time. I think it's time we got something to eat." Cicatrice smiled, nodding eagerly. Having missed her morning meal, she was feeling starved now that the sun was high in the sky. Talcum snickered, putting their training gear away, and grabbing a coat. "Do you have money on you for a meal?" Bashfully, the young lady shook her head. "Ah, no, not at the moment.." Talcum shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "Well, I guess I'm paying for both of us than."

The young Konti girl smiled, pulling her coat and cap on as they left the building. The streets of Sunberth were filled with people, all bustling to different parts of the city, most heading towards the slave market. Talcum and Cicatrice turned down a few corners, finding their way to the market that sold more legal materials, and found the man's favorite street vendor. With hot food in hand, the two found themselves wandering around aimlessly as they talked about the events of their recent lives.

Too soon, in her opinion, they were back in the studio, wooden swords in hand. "Now, can you tell me what you did wrong during our sparing match?" he asked the girl. "I'm not fast enough. I need to be faster." Cicatrice spoke confidently, though it wavered when Talcum just sighed. "Yes, that's part of it, but that comes with training. It's not something I can help you with right now." He swung the wooden sword at her, just clipping the end of her nose, making her squeak. "You put yourself in motion, and while this is good when in control, putting yourself in a motion that great means that you've committed yourself to that motion." He took a step back.

"If you were to try and stop yourself mid motion, you would most likely lose your balance, and leave yourself open. What you were doing would have been fine if you had the acrobatic ability to change your trajectory. Since you don't, you'd best stick to moves you're able to control your complete body. Let me demonstrate." He brought his sword up. "Instead of running at your opponent with large sweeping motions, keep yourself upright as much as possible. Take one or two steps when you go on the attack. If your going to use broad strokes, make them quick, and let your arm do the movement."

Cicatrice watched intently as the man moved, making note of the way he carried himself, where he positioned his arms, how wide apart he kept his feet. "With an opponent that has little to no armor, sword strokes work fine. However if your opponent has thick armor, you must aim thrusts at their vulnerable joints." He showed the girl a few simple sword thrusts, each time only taking a step forward, and then moving back. Talcum lowered his sword, turning to Cicatrice. "Do you under stand?" She nodded, making him smile. "Good, then show me. Attack as best you can."

For most of the remainder of the day, Cicatrice found herself rotating between sparring with her instructor, taking short breaks, being taught what needed improvement, and repeating. By nightfall, she was completely exhaisted, with only one solid land on her instructor to show for it. Talcum smiled, collecting the wooden swords again and putting them in their proper place. Cicatrice was leaning against the wall, panting heavily from the hard day. "You did well, your training is coming along nicely."

The compliment barely brought a twitch of a smile to the young girl's lips, she was just too tired. The from that crossed Talcum's face would have dashed it away anyway. "I..have to send you home now, Cicatrice." The girl groaned. Home, back to mother. The man gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Be strong tomorrow. You come back here the day after tomorrow." He promised her. This time a smile did grace her lips, however small it was. "Alright. Until then." She waved tiredly to him as she stepped out of the studio, and headed for home.

[Archelon]

Thread Award "..." And the Results!!!!: Cicatrice : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Weapon: Estoc 3 Acrobatics 2 See player note Persuasion 2 Socialization 2 bodybuilding 1 swinging a sharper edged longsword is good for kids Lores: Estoc: Fencer's stance (basic) Estoc: Blocks(basic) Estoc: Transition movements (basic) Estoc: Thrusts, Slashes, and Chops (basic) Estoc Tenets: Power vs. Finesse Player note: There is no skill known as 'agility'; it's too broad If there was it would have been the combination of : running; jumping; and acrobatics: Choose one and change your CS please. As a side note while it's possible to have a "martial art" there is no skill as a 'Style" as a specific skill; the base skill is that such a thing is based on is unarmed combat. For example- a really dedicated player may have Unarmed combat 76; Martial arts of ____ city: 30. as a specific study down the line. You may want to switch that skill choice as well. You may actually wish to develop 'dance of the water into a 'form' though it would require a bit more development IC. Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Interesting development of the parental figure. Hope to see how things develop more. All in all, minor discrepancies, but a good solid start.Please address the issues to your skills on your CS. As it stands- I know you have the other PC in sunberth too. I expect one of them to be moving out this fall. There's a rule about 2 PC's in one city. But if you do continue to just have your Cicatrice just for flashbacks in sunberth- its fine .