Esteban Drake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crowneddragon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
voidtreckerexpress2022-05-06 02:36 pm
crowneddragon) wrote in voidtreckerexpress2022-05-06 02:36 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed] The dragon's out of the bag
Who: Esteban and Amaya
Where: Gym Carriage
When: Way Too Early on Rabbit Day 3
What: Esteban trusts Amaya with a secret
Warnings: Potential violence or mild injuries, since they're sparring
It's not their usual time. It's not their usual location.
Esteban had been a bit more pushy this time around, insisting on changing up their schedule just a bit, but he hadn't been overly open as to why. He'd insisted one last time when asking, and had used the very, very first signs that she'd ever taught him. A closed fist, thumb against his lips, palm dropping down to his chest and curling fingers around thin air. Parallel lines on each side.
{Secret-keeper. Please.}
He's taken care of all the preparations at least, having brought the mats from the training gym all the way to the sports carriage and laid them out so that they wouldn't get hurt. They have a decent space, and the area is quiet, with how early it is-- just after the train's forced reset, Esteban had asked. He'd insisted on starting with their usual warmups and light sparring, as if it was just another training session between them.
He is still facing Amaya with as much focus as he can; but the circumstances are odd, and there seems to be something distracting him. His breathing keeps on hitching each time that she moves, and his reaction time is slower. A blow that she knows he should have been able to dodge gets parried instead, leaving his left side open for a retaliation. Esteban notices, shifts backwards, trying to get some distance between them before she strikes back. It's sloppy; and he has been taught better than that, definitely.
Where: Gym Carriage
When: Way Too Early on Rabbit Day 3
What: Esteban trusts Amaya with a secret
Warnings: Potential violence or mild injuries, since they're sparring
It's not their usual time. It's not their usual location.
Esteban had been a bit more pushy this time around, insisting on changing up their schedule just a bit, but he hadn't been overly open as to why. He'd insisted one last time when asking, and had used the very, very first signs that she'd ever taught him. A closed fist, thumb against his lips, palm dropping down to his chest and curling fingers around thin air. Parallel lines on each side.
{Secret-keeper. Please.}
He's taken care of all the preparations at least, having brought the mats from the training gym all the way to the sports carriage and laid them out so that they wouldn't get hurt. They have a decent space, and the area is quiet, with how early it is-- just after the train's forced reset, Esteban had asked. He'd insisted on starting with their usual warmups and light sparring, as if it was just another training session between them.
He is still facing Amaya with as much focus as he can; but the circumstances are odd, and there seems to be something distracting him. His breathing keeps on hitching each time that she moves, and his reaction time is slower. A blow that she knows he should have been able to dodge gets parried instead, leaving his left side open for a retaliation. Esteban notices, shifts backwards, trying to get some distance between them before she strikes back. It's sloppy; and he has been taught better than that, definitely.
Skip the rest of the training?
"I always learn," he is quick to claim, and the spark in his gaze brightens all the more. "It's actually one of my favourite stories," he shares with her, delight lacing through his limbs as he steps away from the wall, stretching the slight ache from being thrown into it away.
"My grandfather was the one to tell me. He said that dragons hatched from the first moon," he grins, eyes held upwards, arms stretching as if he could see it in the non-existent sky above them, hands splayed against an imaginary glow. "Because in order to learn how to fly--" his arms drop, eyes closing as he recalls the words that mean so much to him.
"First, they had to learn how to fall."
He gets back up. He always does.
So Esteban settles on the other side of the mats, grins up at his companion, and nods.
"Round two?" It's barely a question, really.
Works for me?
Bring it on, kid.
no subject
He still got his ass kicked.
For all of his confidence, even his extra limbs hadn't been as much of a help as he'd hoped, and in the end, he'd landed a few meager hits, but hadn't gotten a good one at all. He'd say it was frustrating, if only he wasn't that encouraged by it.
Amaya was teaching him. Esteban was bound to get better the more he trained with her, and it would make him a dangerous opponent, now that he was more open with her about his abilities. It was also the first time he'd started strategizing with his wings having only used them as a last resort before. It makes him hope that he'll manage to be an asset to his team, rather than a burden.
Flat on his back and down on the mats, Esteban is breathing deeply, feeling sweat stick to his forehead and neck, and strangely cold after using his wings so much. No doubt he lacks aether now, but there's a strange sense of exhilaration at it all, something comforting about...
"Thanks!" he manages at first, before half-rising from his seat, and gesturing it out. {Thank you} "For the lessons. An' for--" here, he falters, before grinning wide as he can again, "not bein' afraid." {You don't fear me. I am happy, safe, thank you.}
His wings have since been tucked away, melting through his back as if they'd never been present at all. Tail and horns gone, all of his limbs just as casual, just as normal as if he'd never shifted at all. It makes it easier for him to sit up, less of a hassle to walk over to the bottles he'd left aside for the both of them and toss one easily to his companion when he's sure she can see it coming.
"What weapons d'you fight with?" he asks after draining almost half of his water bottle, trying to pace himself from drinking it all in one go.