Knocking [Gianne]

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

6th Fall 512 AV

Only when Serrif was focused was he truly calm; it was in the lulls in between these times of focus that his mind was chaotic. It tended to stray off and think about whatever it pleased. Sometimes it was about his past, the shattered pieces of memories he did remember; or maybe it was about Mura and how bad he wished to return at times. While he missed the Isle he also knew that he was better suited here at the Sanctuary. But when he was focused everything was brought in, his mind focused on what he was doing.

His senses seemed to sharpen around his current task, and his mind would be preoccupied with the information it was receiving. It was a breath of fresh air for Serrif. Usually his mind was split and focused on all kinds of things at once; but when he gathered his mind and focus on a single task he would finally feel peaceful. Times like now…standing on the beach looking downrange at the single target he had put out at eighty feet from where he now stood. The sound of the crashing waves mixed with the feeling of the sand beneath his feet…his mind nulled out everything that wasn’t important and focused in.

He nulled out the sounds of the gulls flying overhead…they didn’t matter to him right now; instead he fixated on the sound of the wind to gather how strong it was. The feeling of the warm sand underneath his feet…that too was sifted out, instead he focused on how he was standing; how even his stance was. He felt the wind gently slip into his button up tunic and caress his chest, but he discounted that as well and instead focused on the little tufts of sand kicked up downrange; to tell him the strength and direction of the wind near the target.

The exotic Konti Longbow found itself in Serrif’s hand as he looked out over the range he had created for himself. It wasn’t much, but it suited him well enough for now. His climbers quiver was attached at the right side of his hip allowing for easy and quick arrow draws. On his right hip was one of his daggers in it’s ornate sheath; you never knew what you would meet on the beach; so it always paid to be prepared. He remembered the last time he was here he and Gianne had practiced archery together with Kavala. He wasn’t sure if Kavala would want to join him this morning; she was always seemingly busy. But he knew that Gianne would likely be free if she wanted to be.

So he had written her a brief little note and slipped it under her door to have her come practice with him if she wanted.

Gianne
If you would like to practice archery this morning I will be down on the beach for a few chimes at first light. Come if you want I would enjoy the friendly competition and company.
Serrif

The message was brief and to the point; that had been not too long ago now and he was just beginning to put himself through the paces. He drew an arrow from his quiver and knocked it, keeping the bow horizontal to his body as he did so. He didn’t pull back yet, no instead he was just standing there looking out over the sandy beach. It was peaceful because he was focused in on what he was to do. Everything else melted around and his mind began to hyper focus on the little things.

The amount of pressure his fingers were applying on the bowstring, how the arrow sat between his pointer and middle finger, the angle his fingers were at while the pads were holding the string at the lax position. His shoulders loosened up and he readied his breathing for the draw and release. The bow was brought up vertical in line with his straight stature, the string drawn back evenly and slowly. He pulled back until his thumb was against his chin; this was his draw position where he had decided to draw back the string for every shot he fired. This kept thing consistent between shots. Making it easy to guess at how his arrow would behave downrange.

The string was held for a few seconds while his mind made final adjustments and guesstimates. The wind was going North West out to the ocean. He would need to compensate for it. So he adjusted his shot accordingly…little by little until he believed he was where he needed to be. Once there he exhaled fully and released. The arrow soared and Serrif was about right in the winds effect on the arrow, however it was a little stronger downrange than he had first anticipated. His arrow landed a little farther than he would have liked; and consequently missed the target a little. But no matter he had plenty of arrows and plenty more time.

It was about now he decided to see if there were any lone figures on the beach with him. A quick look over his shoulder would suffice for this. Was anyone going to join him today? He couldn’t be sure if Gianne would come out or not. It could be good fun if she did, but at the same time it was early she needed her sleep.

[Gianne Basete]

Her sleep had been a fitful rest, uninterrupted by the sounds of other people or any dreams. It was as close to being dead as a completely healthy young woman could get, and when Gianne woke at predawn, she felt very well rested. She rolled out of bed as she tried to rub the sleep from her eyes and stumbled through her morning routine. She may be rejuvenated from a good sleep, but that didn't mean she liked getting up in the morning. Quite the opposite. But eventually her face was washed, her clothes were on and tucked neatly into position, and she was ready for the day. A piece of paper crumpled under the sole of her boot as she was readying to leave. Instantly curious, Gianne picked it up and read it. She smiled broadly when she saw who it was from, then folded the note quickly and tucked it in down in her shirt. It was always good to see Serrif, and the opportunity to practice with her shortbow was just as good. Ironic that they would be on the beach like last time, and she wondered if Kavala would join them again. That would be even better, because she really needed to discuss some business with her boss. The weather turned out to be very comfortable. It was neither hot nor cold, and there was a light breeze coming off the Suvan. That would mean the wind would be stronger down by the surf. The cliffs always cut some of the strength off the wind, but when you were disarmed of their defenses like on the beach, you received the full brunt of the currents. Today shouldn't be bad though; up here in the Sanctuary the wind was only strong enough to tickle at her skin. It was barely noticeable, so down on the sand she doubted it would affect the trajectory of their arrows. It didn't take any searching to find Serrif once she set foot on the sand. Gianne smiled when she saw him; standing out facing a lone target propped on the beach. He had his beautiful longbow in hand and she had a moment of admiration over the weapon. Her own shortbow was slung over her shoulder. It was a little shabby now from being beaten around on a few occasions, but it still served her nicely. Her quiver was strapped tightly to her back, snugly pressing between her shoulders and pregnant with arrows. Some were gone from the original set so they rattled now, a little loose from the gaps left by their missing siblings that had been lost in the forest during the summer. The materials for the arrows had been taken from the earth and trees, and in a way they had been returned. Either embedded in the dirt of stuck in the trunk of a tree; they were now permanent fixtures of their surroundings. Gianne raised her gloved hand and called out to her companion, waving a little to exaggerate. "Serrif, I'm here! Sorry if I was late." Her voice was a tad muffled from the sound of crashing waves, but she knew he could hear her. She started off at a jog, closing the rest of the distance between them. The smell of salt was thick in the air and it coated her throat and lungs, making her feel a little dried out. As an afterthought she realized she should have brought her waterskin. Too late now. "I got your note," she said when she was standing with him, then flushed. That fact was obvious. Why would she be here if she hadn't gotten the paper? Stupid.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

Gianne…there she was. Dressed as usual for practical means, something he admired in her. She always dressed practically, although everyone around the Sanctuary did. He was still more used to the flowing gowns and sundresses the Konti wore. But things here were far different for sure. His bow hung idly in his hand at his side as Gianne waved to him then jogged to close what was left of the distance between them. She could’ve walked for all he cared but to each their own; it just meant the needed to wait less time for her to join him. But honestly he didn’t mind waiting.

His focus began to broaden again as he watched her run across the sand; moving from focusing on the target to focusing on her. She had her quiver on her back, so she was indeed going to join him this fine morning…which was good. He hadn’t invited Kavala explicitly because he felt at times like he was bothering her. But Gianne, well she seemed to rather enjoy his company. And that kind of energy was contagious.

“Late? I beg to differ you are on time.” He said as she tried to apologize for being her interpretation of late. He was going to be out here a good amount of time still, he planned to do this until the sun came up a good amount, being that it was just barely coming over the horizon right now.

There were fewer distractions between them right now; especially now that it was just the two of them. He was beginning to pick up on small details as his eyes scanned over her. Her bow looked worn, but that mean it had been used in instances other than practice. She definitely looked the role of a hunter, which would explain why he found her in the forest that day last season. Practicality, that was obviously something the two of them had in common.

As she drew closer she would get to see the intricate work of art Serrif held in his hand. A Kontinese longbow. He himself still did not know the history behind such a wonderful work of craftsmanship. It stood six feet tall when unstrung. The bow itself was made out of two long cuts of white wood with a piece of white animal ivory between them to add more power to the release and more durability to the bow. The handle of the bow had grooved arrow guides and seemed to be form fitted for his hand personally, weaving up the handle and up the bow was an ornate set of cold steel engravings that looked like shells…again adding even more durability to the bow.

“So, that sand mound is at eighty feet…or so. Think you can manage it?” It was a question as much as a challenge. A good friendly bit of competition never hurt anyone…that he knew of.

[Gianne Basete]

So she wasn't late. Relief washed over her now that she knew she hadn't left him waiting. Her smile broadened, making her eyes crinkle at the edges. Later on in life she would likely have crow's feet, the fine wrinkles at the corner of each eye that was a dead giveaway of someone who smiled often. "That's good," she said airily as a hand nervously went up to fiddle with a lock of hair dangling over her shoulder. It took her a moment to realize she was doing it and she quickly replaced her hand back at her side. Gianne allowed herself another look at his bow, admiring the fine details and design. It made her own weapon seem even shabbier and she had a moment of feeling self conscious of her equipment. Was she scruffy looking just like her things? She pushed the thought away though; Serrif wasn't the sort of man to care about such trivial matters. The things she'd seen him carry though were all very nice, and she wondered absently where he could have gotten such unique items. The bow had shell accents running along the limbs so her guess was somewhere coastal. His voice cut through her thoughts and she jumped in surprise, smiling apologetically and laughing for her lapse in attention. Turning to look at the makeshift target, she shrugged. "Not sure. I guess we're about to find out," her tone was light and joking, but she was going to try hard to hit the lump of sand. Both to impress Serrif and see for herself if she was good enough yet to hit something at that distance. Gianne shrugged the bow from her shoulder and tested the string a moment. Satisfied it was ready she reached behind her and retrieved an arrow from its nest in her quiver, nocked it, and readied her stance. Her back and shoulders flexed as she pulled the string and anchored it at the corner of her mouth. A little uncertain she wasn't aiming high enough, she tilted the arrow up a few inches then released. The string hummed as it launched the arrow down the beach at high speeds. Her grin disappeared when the arrow bounced off the top of the mound, sending the projectile cartwheeling away. It rolled to a stop in the sand several yards past the target. Her lips puckered with distaste and she looked at Serrif with exasperation. "Let's see you give it a shot," she challenged and then she smiled at her unintentional pun.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

One thing he had learned in his life through trial by fire was never to judge anyone by what they had. Anyone could ‘own’ anything. Coin was liquidity allowed people to hide behind intricately paid for masks of various kinds. However, when you truly knew someone you learned what they were capable of; and a person’s true wealth resided in what the eyes could not see. And he was just beginning to see that side of Gianne right now; it was in relaxed almost playful moments that you got to know someone. See who they were deep inside…sometimes that person wasn’t who you expected leaving the mind pleasantly surprised.

Gianne’s stance was good, she had obviously handled a bow before. It was true she lacked some of the finer detailes he had observed Ildin using when she used her bow, however; it wasn’t fair to compare anyone to the Archery Mistress Ildin. He was sure that Konti had maybe a good lifetime or two of experience behind her with the bow. He had trained with the mistress for nearly an entire year and he even lacked most of the grace that she possessed. He didn’t focus on anything but how she handled her body when practicing. In his mind he wasn’t tweaking her; he was merely observing.

Her posture was good, her draw clean and she obviously had an anchor point chosen. But she almost seemed rushed like she wanted to just draw it back and let it go to soon. Again they weren’t shooting anything that mattered so taking time wasn’t going to hurt anything. The arrow streaked out to the mound and glazed the top rolling off; cartwheeling away. Ne nodded, a very very good first try.

“Well done especially for a first draw at this distance.” She then issued him a challenge…which he gladly accepted.

There were several advantages to owning his particular bow. One of which was that he had the honor of training with it for several seasons. Getting to know how it reacted, how to lay an arrow perfectly on the guide. Where his hand should go and what effect this would have on the arrow trajectory when he released. But apart from training his bow had remarkable range that he was just beginning to understand. He had marked targets out at one hundred plus feet before. They were standing targets with armor far more glamorous and practical than this sand mound he had created. But nevertheless the lessons did indeed remain the same. His bow was meant for range…he just still had to figure out how to use it effectively in such circumstances.

“Yes…let’s” He said in response as he pulled an arrow easily from his hip quiver and knocked it in the bowstring.

He kept his bow horizontal for a few moments while looking out surveying the landscape. It was flat; he already knew that though, there was a light wind which he had already underestimated once this morning. It was still keeping its North West breeze carrying arrows downrange and out toward the ocean. He had made his placement shot already; all he really needed to do was adjust from that one…carefully. It was a fine art because any of the variables could change at any given moment. Although another thought crossed his mind….

Should he really try his hardest? He didn’t want to mark the target and make her feel peeved at him because he could hit the target. No he did want to drag this interaction on and not dishearten her immediately; that would be rude. So instead he decided to throw his next arrow if he could. He would try, but with things the way they were…one never really knew what they would get.

His mind made up the bow was brought up to the ready position, vertical with his posture; the massive bow’s energy was harnessed with the draw of the string. He pulled back smoothly and evenly…he knew what he needed to do to hit and he was going to throw his calculation a little. Not enough to prove him incompetent; but at the same time not minute enough for her to think he was trying to lead her on. No, there was a fine balance of such things. His mind focused in, his body straightened up and his heels seemed to dig in a little as he shifted his weight. The wind would work in his favor this time.

He remembered his stance perfectly from last time. Where everything was, how he held himself as well as the bow. He was becoming more and more aware of such things slowly; mainly because he knew that such things were important. Every little variable played a part, the more of them you could eliminate by habit and concentration the more precise and accurate your shots would be. With a single exhale he released cleanly letting the arrow do as he had instructed it.

His arrow flew with a noticeable amount of force behind it. Longbows tended to be pretty powerful on the average. The arrow met the ground closer than his last arrow but still not on target…which was what he was going for.

“Appears I still haven’t adjusted for the wind enough.” A lie obviously because he knew exactly how the wind was going to play into his shots.

[Gianne Basete]

She smiled at his praise, quickly shrugging off the fact that she'd missed. No big deal, she rationalized. "Thank you," she said breathily. What a sucker Gianne was for kind words. And now it was Serrif's turn. Her challenge had been accepted so now the real fun would begin. He was obviously better at shooting than her, but neither of them were experts. She'd learned that last time they practiced together. They were learning with each arrow fired. Serrif's stance seemed flawless to her. His feet were shoulder width apart, and she realized hers could have been closer together. His draw was fluid and his concentration was admirable. The main thing she noticed was that he was taking his time, where she had done an instinctive shot, not taking time to carefully aim. She'd been told instinctive shooting was the easiest way to hit your mark, but maybe she was going about it the wrong way. Gianne realized shooting probably became instinctive after the archer mastered the finer points such as aim, stance, and concentration. She admonished herself fiercely for this mistake, which she'd been making for a while now. When she first started using her bow she had taken the time to aim, but then changed her ways in an effort to better herself. Maybe it was making her worse without her actually knowing. Serrif had surely noticed her mistake with her haste in firing. Embarrassment bubbled up from the pit of her stomach. Serrif's release was as clean and smooth as everything else he'd done. His arrow was faster than hers had been, closing the distance to the target with admirable speed. To her surprise it didn't make contact with their target. Gianne had been sure it was going to hit. Maybe having a good everything didn't guarantee success? But that didn't sound right, so she eyed him suspiciously. He explained the wind had been working against him, which she realized was probably right. That seemed like a good reason. A lot of factors could effect the trajectory of an arrow, and that was the main one. The lie had hit home. She nodded at him with an understanding air. She'd always been gullible. "My turn, I guess." This time would be different. She wouldn't make the same mistakes again if she could help it. Another arrow was nocked and pulled back to rest at her anchor point. The red feathers tickled her cheek while she leered downrange at the target, trying to gauge her last shooting position. She should have remember instead of firing blindly in what she thought was the right angle. For a moment she experimented, tilting the savage arrowhead up and down until she figured she was close to the same position as before. Her arrow had went too high the last time so she checked herself and aimed lower. Her feet wiggled a little closer together when she remember to correct her footing. What else was she doing wrong? Gianne thought hard, wracking her brain for anything to correct. Nothing could be done about the wind, she wasn't yet able to compensate her shots to work with the air currents. It was something she'd work on when her general aim was better. She couldn't think of anything else now that she was already ready to shoot. Of course she could just lower the bow and restart, but this was practice after all so any mistake could be corrected with the next shot. With that thought she let go. She watched hopefully as the arrow sailed away with the release of the string. The breath she'd been holding came out as a gusty sigh when it snagged in the sand a few feet in front of the target. "Too low," she explained dismayed, looking to Serrif for some sort of advice. Her face clearly asked What am I doing wrong? Gianne knew the rules for weapon skills in Riverfall, and she knew she wasn't good enough yet to meet their expectations. What if she was kicked out? Would the Akalaks actually do that? Of course she hadn't known all this when she first came here, so they couldn't blame her. And she was practicing often, trying hard to catch up with where she needed to be. "I thought I was going to get it that time."

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

He was glad that his lie was at least somewhat believable to her; there were indeed so many factors in archery that it was nearly impossible to account for all of them. He didn’t know how Ildin did it; perhaps she had some sort of muscle memory that he just hadn’t developed yet. In his mind he thought for a few moments that Gianne had those skills as well. Sometimes it was worth it to just let the arrows fly and develop your memory; but that really wasn’t how he had been taught; he supposed there were more than just a few schools of thought on the subject.

He watched Gianne closely; he had a habit for doing such things especially with archery. He had gotten used to watching Mistress Ildin shoot that he really couldn’t help but watch others when they did. And watching Gianne…well she wasn’t exactly a harsh sight for the eyes. He almost had to stop himself from just staring at her so he shrugged those thoughts away as he watched her stance. She knew what the correct archery stance was; that was apparent to him by the way she corrected herself in little amounts. Does she feel rushed? He didn’t know why she would, he wasn’t pressuring her or anything; well not that he noticed. Truly he meant for this to be a friendly competition where they could get to know each other a little more and sharpen some skills together. Being that they both seemed to have a knack for archery.

While he watched her he did notice some small things in her posture, small but he wouldn’t speak out about them. He was no master of archery like Ildin was. No, he merely knew most of the basics and was expanding on his knowledge little bits at a time. He would agree with her, equipment had no bearing on performance; it was the warrior who wielded the weapon. Training and practice made the most amount of difference, equipment…well equipment was nice when you could get your hands on it and practice with it. Otherwise you were just wasting your time. He couldn’t imagine having to learn another bow all over again; each was different and knowing your equipment was worth far more than having nice equipment that you were unfamiliar with.

Her next shot was a little low, but he knew she could easily blame that on the wind. Which was likely the case given that her stance was good as well as her pull and release. The wind was hard to equate into ones shot; he was still learning how to do such things himself. Only after much more practice could he even begin to get comfortable enough to place consistent accurate shots with the wind like it was. His skills were such that he likely could place an arrow on target next try if he wanted to. But he didn’t feel any need to…not really.

She looked to him almost as if she had a few questions he could answer. Did he really seem that confident to her? He supposed that he could teach her a few things. But they would likely need more than just today to learn what she wanted to do. He recounted everything she had been doing, “You are doing fine really; you are consistent with your stance as well as your draw. You are making only fine tune adjustments which again is good. It just takes time especially at this range…and the wind isn’t helping either of us any this morning.”

He thought about drawing another arrow and putting it right on target but instead decided to just let her in on what he did to account for everything. “The wind is going downrange. Meaning it will help carry your arrow to the target. But it is also blowing slightly out to sea, meaning it will throw your arrows off target to the left. Over distance this effect gets worse because arrows lose velocity and become more susceptible to the wind. Also the wind here where we are standing may be slightly different than the wind there at the target” That likely only made her nervous so he tried to let her in on a little secret.

“The tell for wind in this instance could be any number of things. I use things like tall grass or sifting sand…sometimes waves can be tells as well. Right now I am watching the loose warm sand that is up on the beach to help me tell the wind. It is an art more than a science though Gianne. It takes time, and like I said the longer the shot the more compensation is needed.” He hoped that would help her some but he decided to give her a practical application of that knowledge.

“You see down near the target, the loose upper layer of sand?” He said pointing downrange to where the lumpy sand mound target was. “Watch for the gusts of wind.” And sure enough when a gust came some of the particulate on the top layer was shifted around in the direction of the wind.

“Little things can help you tell the wind distance and intensity. Like I said wind here where we are standing could be different than wind there. Accounting for all of it is somewhat of a learned and practiced skill.” He pulled an arrow from his quiver and knocked it in the bowstring.

The bow was brought up vertical with his stance; he kept his feet spaced and anchored below his shoulders. His weight was distributed evenly across his feet as not to dig his heels too far into the sand or unevenly put the weight on the balls of his feet either. A nice level stance was important to placing accurate shots at distances like this. There weren’t many times he could put an accurate arrow past one hundred feet or so. Eighty was right up near that and he knew that the wind would definitely have a bearing on his shots.

He relaxed his shoulders some and then brought the string back until the side of his thumb was along his cheek line; that was his anchor point. He held it there for a few seconds as he then made some more final adjustments before he released it. He battled again in his head if he wanted to really hit the target or throw it off again. Would she be suspicious of him then? He released smoothly and let the arrow fly toward the target. Like the other two arrows before it the arrow rocketed from the string closing the distance between him and the mound with alarming speed.

He had calculated pretty well the arrow drop and the wind gusts that had been pseudo throwing off his shots this morning. It hit the mound in the upper left hand corner biting deep into the sand. He nodded some to himself and then looked to Gianne. He didn’t seem full of himself nor prideful; just like he had simply marked the target. “There finally marked it.” He said with a small laugh.

“So, try again I’ll watch.” He laid the bow horizontally at a resting position.

[Gianne Basete]

"True, the wind definitely isn't helping," she agreed dismally, but then smiled. It was no problem to fight the wind, seeing how it was just practice. If this had been the situation last season where she was attacked by wolves though... the wind would be the death of her. Thankfully her and Rhy had been in the trees which drastically cut down any air speeds. Gianne Uh huh'd and Ah-hah'd at the right times, showing that she wasn't just oogling at his attractive face like an idiot. Of course there was plenty of oogling while she listened; she was just a good at multitasking. He knew more about air currents than she did, but she tried her best to follow his explanation. She thought she had a pretty good idea of where he was coming from, but she looked downrange in deep concentration just in case. She honestly couldn't find the tell he was talking about, but when he pointed she finally spotted it. "Oh!" she murmured absently, letting him know that she saw it. The next breeze that stirred the sand didn't reach them, but it was like he told her; wind was different in every area. The sand swirled a little before stilling, and then a bigger gust blew from their backs, downrange, and scattered more little grains. "I don't know how long it will take me to be good at gauging wind direction," she admitted as she looked back at him, "but I'll practice now every time I shoot." He was obviously going to demonstrate as he pulled another arrow out and nocked it. She watched intently again, trying to see anything that would help her like a good little student. His shoulders seemed relaxed; hers were always stiff it seemed like. Gianne held her bow in a death grip sometimes which she knew wasn't good, but the habit was hard to break. She'd been told that holding your bow too tight would cause the arrow to veer to the left, and the further away your target was the worse the inaccuracy would be. Again everything seemed so effortless for Serrif. The draw, aim, release. She was sure that if she tried to fire his longbow she wouldn't be strong enough to pull it back to full draw. Correction; probably not even halfway. She smiled at the thought and let her eyes absently run over the line of his body. Suddenly she flushed and looked away, admonishing herself for getting distracted. Leave it to her mind to be led astray. Next time Gianne wouldn't quietly be proud of herself for staying on task with Serrif standing so close. It seemed to jinx her. She'd just oogle and be unashamed. The familiar scrape-slither of the arrow being released drew back her attention and she watched it speed downrange, catching deep into the corner of the makeshift target. Her smile widened and she clapped him on the shoulder. "There we go! Good shot." She wasn't upset in the slightest that he'd made his shot before she could make hers. Quite the opposite; it was what she had been expecting. He was the better archer after all. She slid her next arrow from its place at her back and nocked it, feeling the routine set in again. Hesitation wormed into her brain though as she was about to pull back the string. She looked back at him and smiled hesitantly, hoping he wouldn't mind. "Actually, do you mind if we take a break and sit a while?" She stood ready to make her shot in case he said no, fingers ready on the string. Her thumb absently scraped over the red feather on the arrow shaft. That had become another habit of hers. Probably a nervous one but she didn't know.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

It took him several intensive sessions with Ildin to get his skills to the point where they were now. It took several mornings and evenings of sometimes rather odd exercises to get him comfortable with his bow. But he had gotten here only because Ildin had seen something in him that he still didn’t see in himself; she trusted him with the knowledge she imparted on him. One of these skills was how to mark a target even with the wind, it took forever for him to get everything right. He still didn’t have everything down to a T yet; but the more he tried the better he got.

“The wind rarely helps.” He said laughing some confessing one of the many truths when it came down to archery; with a long or a shortbow.

There were a good many other things to take into account; and he couldn’t even begin to relay all this information to her just Standing here shooting at sand targets. He caught her looking at him but it was a standard thing around women it seemed. Was he really that attractive? He didn’t think so, Ishara and Blythe both acted the same way…all the sudden it hit him that she could be attracted to him just like those other two women. Wait…could that be true? About this time was when Gianne was asking him to take a break.

“I don’t mind at all Gianne; a slight respite could be a good thing.” He wasn’t going to press the fact that she had been looking at him. Rather he liked the fact that he could shake her up some; distract her from what she was doing. It was a welcome difference from what he was used to in Mura; where the women were constantly distracting him from everything he did. Every one of those blonde haired vixens was absolutely beautiful. All of Mura was full of them; much like Riverfall was full of the Akalak men.

But if had been some time since he had seen the true beauty of a non Konti. Both Gianne and Ishara were more than beautiful even when compared to Konti. Each race apparently had very different and yet beautiful features. Gianne had a wonderfully expressive and open face; one he loved to try and read while she spoke to him. Even when she wasn’t speaking he loved watching her face, and her hazel eyes. His were a deeper more expressive emerald color, not that he really ever noticed but he was sure others did.

“So is there anything you want to talk about specifically? As far as form and everything else you are doing fine; there isn’t anything I can easily mark for you to improve on.”

He sat down and sat his longbow on his lap so that he would keep it out of the sand and water. He knew that such things were important. It would’ve been tragic if the bowstring snapped while he was drawing back; it would likely cut through his skin with ease. He had to be especially careful with his bow being as large and powerful as it was. He stretched his arms some and looked to her, right in her face because he knew he could read her emotion there.

[Gianne Basete]

Gianne took a seat across from him in the cool sand, crossing her legs and lying her own bow atop her knees just as he had his. She shifted her weight a few times before she spoke, as if she was unable to get comfortable, and gave a shrug. "I guess I just wanted to talk in general. And get to know you more." That last sentence came out as a mumble and she shrugged again, an exaggerated and obviously self conscious movement. She offered up a meek smile and tried to come up with a comment that sounded at least marginally less lame, but only ended up fluttering her hands uselessly in the air as if that would conjure up some better words. It didn't, so she folded them awkwardly in her lap. She had looked down at her intertwined fingers and now looked back up at his face, smiling a little more bravely. His eyes were steady and unwavering as he looked at her; they were bright green like fine gems. Green was her favorite color. She used to always wish that she had been born with green eyes, but now Gianne didn't care. Despite how Serrif addled her brain and flustered her a great deal, she was self confident and had a high self esteem. Never had she been taught to think of herself as anything but just right. "Where did you come from?" she decided to ask. This was a good opportunity to oogle and think. Gianne watched his handsome features with interest. In a way it bothered her how she reacted to him. She got tongue tied and shy like he was going to bite. But he was kind, like a gentle giant. Of course, he was very handsome and had a lot of good qualities. When she was younger the boys in Zeltiva had never looked to her as a girl. Not in the attractive I want to sneak her kisses and hold her hand sort of way. She had been a tomboy, rough housing and rolling in the dirt with the lot of them. And because of this almost all of her friends had been boys. Sure Gianne had gotten along just fine with the girls, but they were more interested in their dresses and dolls. Her mother was always trying to think up ways to turn her daughter into a proper young lady, who would one day become a even more proper woman. Dresses, makeup, dancing, and etiquette. Gianne had been put through the ringer; day after day of her mother trying to brainwash her into something she just wasn't. The thought of a corset squeezing her waist several sizes smaller made her want to cringe. She wondered if Serrif found her genuinely attractive, despite her plain demeanor. She was by no means an unattractive woman, but the way she carried herself tended to take away from the awe. Her mother was a graceful, proper lady while Gianne was... Gianne. "I'm from Zeltiva," she confided. Funny how they had known each other for over half a season and they were just now getting into a personal conversation. Things had really been hectic and screwed up over the summer. The process of settling in to such a completely different city than her previous home had been a bit of a challenge, but she'd managed. And what luck she'd had, running into such an attractive and kind man like Serrif. Of course, their first meeting had been anything but a good day. "You know, it's funny, you've had this big aura of mystery around you ever since the day I met you. Haven't had the opportunity to really talk." She smiled crookedly and fiddled with a leather thong tied around her wrist. Absently she picked the knot until it was untied then used it to pull back her hair in a careless ponytail. "I owe you so much, and I don't even know all that much about you." And she genuinely wanted to get to know him. Not just because of her undeniable attraction to him. Gianne knew that even if he didn't have to power to turn her into a puddle of blushing goop she would want to get closer to him. He had that aura about him. Maybe it was magnified by the gnosis, but either way his personality radiated kindness and a willingness to listen. Her eyes ran across the broad set of his shoulders and over his chest, then back up to the open and gorgeous face. Speaking of being a puddle of blushing goop, she could feel the heat in her face after her eyes finished their quick little jog over his features. I wonder if he likes skinny girls. A lot of men, she knew, preferred woman with tiny waists. Gianne wasn't fat, but she definitely wasn't bony. Her hips were full just like her lips, and her stomach wasn't completely flat. A man would have something to grab when it came to her. At least she was proud of her bosom, and she was well proportioned. Serrif on the other hand was a little skinny for someone of his great height. She didn't know the reason, but it was obvious that he hadn't had a prosperous life. Somewhere along the line he'd missed key nourishment, and it looked like he was just now catching up. That was something she wasn't going to ask about. He would tell her his story when he felt like it.