The third day of spring, 514 AV.
Keene's fist slammed into Atziri's palm, the force of the strike sending a ripple of resistance up through his arm to settle in his shoulder. "Again, harder this time." Atziri's calm, intense stare held steady as Keene pulled his hand back to punch the target of her hand once more. The slight torque of his body added to the weight of blow, and the shield that she had cast about her hands gave of a slight, crimson flash as there was contact once more. "Again." He alternated hands, striking in a steady rhythm as each time his fist met her hand she repeated the word. He could feel his arms growing more and more weary, each punch requiring more and more of his strength.
After a couple dozen more punches, Atziri lashed back at him. The movement had been unexpected, but not so fast that Keene was unable to react. Her own fist moved in a sort of short jab towards his face, the hand that had been a target only a tick ago moving at a quick pace towards his head. Rather than duck out of the way as might have been his reaction before their training had begun a season ago, Keene's eyes flicked over the woman's arms, tracing the trajectory of its motion before shifting his body to the side to move his head out of the way. The moment the hand whizzed past his face, Atziri pulled it back into its original position, expectantly awaiting the next attack. Blinking, Keene obliged, though the power behind his punch was far less than it had been before, a physical representation of his split attentions. Again, she attacked, but this time it was far too fast for him to do anything more than jerk away from before the heel of her palm landed squarely in the middle of his head. Though the shield flared and the majority of the force and pain was absorbed by the protective layer of djed, it was still a hit.
Keene dropped down to his hands, lowering and raising his body in a set of push ups, arms burning slightly at the effort after their already lengthy exercise. "Again."
They continued for a time until Atziri deemed him no longer fit to continue for lack of being able to absorb any more of the lesson. Form was of the utmost importance, and if he was unable to maintain it, the lesson was over. Since his time spent training more than simply his mind, Keene had found his body had grown considerably stronger from its previous state of impotence. For one, his arms had gained definition, a wiry strength that was less of mass and more of a slim tightness. He was able to withstand more grueling and arduous bouts of physical exertion, and the required time of recovery afterwards had been sizably reduced. He was hardly the pinnacle of fitness, but he had come a long way since his days spent solely sitting in the library of Zeltiva, reading the day away.
He didn't miss such activities in so many words, but it had been an easier time for him, a less troubled and more comfortable period in his life. In a way, he was grateful for the twists and turns his life had taken, in others, he was bitter - in all, however, he was accepting. His life had changed, and he had changed with it. While the Keene of Zeltiva had never thought honing one's body to be of any use beyond what was absolutely necessary to maintain optimal performance of reimancy, the Keene of Sahova was not quite so naive. Mind, body, and soul - the tools of the Wardens, and the three single most important components that set them apart from the rest of the island's inhabitants. The Wardens were superior battle mages, but they were not great through their magical prowess alone, and he had been too short-sighted to realize that until he had become a part of them.
Drawing a swig of water from his flask once he had padded his way over to the table where it had been resting for most of the morning, Keene ran his free hand over his eyes, pulling away the sweat that had accumulated there. Atziri joined him, taking her own refreshment beside him. They drank in comfortable silence, neither needing to say anything to other. She was a resource to him, and he a tool to her. From the time he had spent with the other initiates, Keene was fully aware of the dangers of attachment in their ranks. The island was incredibly dangerous, and the life expectancy of those who dealt with those dangers on a daily basis was hardly conducive to building lasting bonds with one another. Still, a bond did not have to be forged in the blue skies of friendship. He trusted Atziri more than any other being on the island, and if she had told him to jump off of a cliff, he would have done so knowing full well it would not lead to his death. Still, that sort of devotion did not lend itself well to idle chatter.
"Be back by sundown tonight." Atziri tied her own flask to her belt, giving Keene a steady stare. "If you can help it, don't waste your djed today. You'll need it when you get back." Keene's lips turned down in a slight frown, but he nodded all the same. It had been a while since Atziri had sought to train him in anything magic related, and he wondered if she planned to introduce him to a new magic. It seemed unlikely, but Keene found the prospect of the sun setting to be far more interesting that it had seemed when he'd first awoken that day. As he watched her leave, Keene stoically finished the pile of dried almonds that had been the last bits of their breakfast. Whatever she had planned for him, speculation would get him nowhere. It was best to focus on the tasks at hand for the time being.
Keene's fist slammed into Atziri's palm, the force of the strike sending a ripple of resistance up through his arm to settle in his shoulder. "Again, harder this time." Atziri's calm, intense stare held steady as Keene pulled his hand back to punch the target of her hand once more. The slight torque of his body added to the weight of blow, and the shield that she had cast about her hands gave of a slight, crimson flash as there was contact once more. "Again." He alternated hands, striking in a steady rhythm as each time his fist met her hand she repeated the word. He could feel his arms growing more and more weary, each punch requiring more and more of his strength.
After a couple dozen more punches, Atziri lashed back at him. The movement had been unexpected, but not so fast that Keene was unable to react. Her own fist moved in a sort of short jab towards his face, the hand that had been a target only a tick ago moving at a quick pace towards his head. Rather than duck out of the way as might have been his reaction before their training had begun a season ago, Keene's eyes flicked over the woman's arms, tracing the trajectory of its motion before shifting his body to the side to move his head out of the way. The moment the hand whizzed past his face, Atziri pulled it back into its original position, expectantly awaiting the next attack. Blinking, Keene obliged, though the power behind his punch was far less than it had been before, a physical representation of his split attentions. Again, she attacked, but this time it was far too fast for him to do anything more than jerk away from before the heel of her palm landed squarely in the middle of his head. Though the shield flared and the majority of the force and pain was absorbed by the protective layer of djed, it was still a hit.
Keene dropped down to his hands, lowering and raising his body in a set of push ups, arms burning slightly at the effort after their already lengthy exercise. "Again."
They continued for a time until Atziri deemed him no longer fit to continue for lack of being able to absorb any more of the lesson. Form was of the utmost importance, and if he was unable to maintain it, the lesson was over. Since his time spent training more than simply his mind, Keene had found his body had grown considerably stronger from its previous state of impotence. For one, his arms had gained definition, a wiry strength that was less of mass and more of a slim tightness. He was able to withstand more grueling and arduous bouts of physical exertion, and the required time of recovery afterwards had been sizably reduced. He was hardly the pinnacle of fitness, but he had come a long way since his days spent solely sitting in the library of Zeltiva, reading the day away.
He didn't miss such activities in so many words, but it had been an easier time for him, a less troubled and more comfortable period in his life. In a way, he was grateful for the twists and turns his life had taken, in others, he was bitter - in all, however, he was accepting. His life had changed, and he had changed with it. While the Keene of Zeltiva had never thought honing one's body to be of any use beyond what was absolutely necessary to maintain optimal performance of reimancy, the Keene of Sahova was not quite so naive. Mind, body, and soul - the tools of the Wardens, and the three single most important components that set them apart from the rest of the island's inhabitants. The Wardens were superior battle mages, but they were not great through their magical prowess alone, and he had been too short-sighted to realize that until he had become a part of them.
Drawing a swig of water from his flask once he had padded his way over to the table where it had been resting for most of the morning, Keene ran his free hand over his eyes, pulling away the sweat that had accumulated there. Atziri joined him, taking her own refreshment beside him. They drank in comfortable silence, neither needing to say anything to other. She was a resource to him, and he a tool to her. From the time he had spent with the other initiates, Keene was fully aware of the dangers of attachment in their ranks. The island was incredibly dangerous, and the life expectancy of those who dealt with those dangers on a daily basis was hardly conducive to building lasting bonds with one another. Still, a bond did not have to be forged in the blue skies of friendship. He trusted Atziri more than any other being on the island, and if she had told him to jump off of a cliff, he would have done so knowing full well it would not lead to his death. Still, that sort of devotion did not lend itself well to idle chatter.
"Be back by sundown tonight." Atziri tied her own flask to her belt, giving Keene a steady stare. "If you can help it, don't waste your djed today. You'll need it when you get back." Keene's lips turned down in a slight frown, but he nodded all the same. It had been a while since Atziri had sought to train him in anything magic related, and he wondered if she planned to introduce him to a new magic. It seemed unlikely, but Keene found the prospect of the sun setting to be far more interesting that it had seemed when he'd first awoken that day. As he watched her leave, Keene stoically finished the pile of dried almonds that had been the last bits of their breakfast. Whatever she had planned for him, speculation would get him nowhere. It was best to focus on the tasks at hand for the time being.