Work Text:
“Again.”
Alogar lunges, back foot sliding across the rocky ground, front heel hitting the gravel a fraction of a second before his arm shoots out. He stays in position, hardly daring to breathe, sweat dripping from his brow. His eyes slide over to Julien, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed.
“Recover. Again. Your arm needs to lead, Alogar, not your foot.” Julien chooses to ignore the slight sigh of irritation from his student and waits for him to return to his en garde. Alogar closes his eyes briefly, seeing the movement, then lunges; his arm leading by a mile but his hips dropping too far, his thigh resting on his calf. He looks at him again.
“Recover. Again. The arm was good, keep your front leg squared.”
Al recovers, his expression determined. He blinks, breathes, and lunges, arm shooting out like an arrow and thigh muscle trembling as he holds the right angle of his front leg. Julien nods slightly.
“Recover. Relax,” he adds, and Alogar falls out of position. As the boy shakes out his limbs and wipes the sweat out of his eyes, Julien glances up at the sun, gauging the time. His eye is caught on a smudge of green and black leaning over the rail of the highest balcony of the courtyard as he looks back down, and he suppresses a groan, turning back to Alogar. “Good work this morning. Take lunch now, be back in half an hour.”
Al nods, already removing his gauntlet. “Thanks, Sir Julien.”
The boy runs off as quick as he can, eager to make use of his short break, and Julien sighs, sliding down the wall to a sitting position. He looks up at the balcony, now empty. He fully groans, letting his head fall for one second, the dark curtain of his hair a brief reprieve from the bright sun that had been assaulting his eyes all morning. The previous night is mostly lost on him, but from the pounding headache and bile lurking in the back of his throat all morning, he has a pretty good idea of how it went.
A shadow falls cross his already-darkened vision, and he looks up, a false smile hastily plastering over his lips. Thaisha Lloy is looking down at him, hands on her hips, her mouth set into a frown and her brows furrowed. She is arrayed in her full Old-Path-Druid-Whatever regalia; but the vines draped over her shoulders have grown quite sharp thorns and the flowers in her hair have wilted, which does unfortunately little to detract from her beauty.
Julien pushes himself up, dizziness washing over him, and gives her the slightest bow. “Lady Lloy. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
She looks him up and down, humming, like she can see something inside him he’s unaware of. “I see you’ve taken a break from your wild goose chase to do your actual job, Sir Julien,” she says, finishing her once-over of his body. “How… unexpected.”
Julien sneers and pushes himself off the wall. “I hold both my duty to your son and my hunt of Thjazi Fang to equal importance. Accordingly, sometimes I may take some time from one activity and dedicate to the other, which I have been upfront about since the beginning of your son’s training.”
Thaisha rolls her eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Julien. Nothing is as important as capturing Thjazi for you.”
“You said it, not I.”
Her eyes darken, “I have been told my son is getting the best education possible for him. If your… fixation on Thjazi Fang is getting in the way of that, I will not hesitate to withdraw him. Do you understand?”
“I understand perfectly, Lady. Did you come here for something of substance, or just to repeat empty threats to me?”
A pulse of heat emanates from Thaisha’s body as she steps closer, their faces inches from another. Julien realizes with a start that Thaisha is half an inch taller than him. “These are not empty threats, Sir Davinos. Dedicate more time to my son and less to pretending you’re Thjazi’s equal, or you’re out of an apprentice.”
Julien is suddenly aware of their proximity, of Thaisha’s lips inches from his own, of the faint scent of wildflowers flooding his senses. He swallows, feeling heat rise in his cheeks, and looks up at her through hooded eyes. “And what a disaster that would be. To not have his doting mother pinning me to walls in my own home. I would certainly be devastated to not see you so often.” He bats his lashes, once, for effect, and though Thaisha’s scowl deepens, he can feel her sharp intake of breath- before she pushes away, stepping back.
“You disgust me,” she snarls. “Train my son well. Perhaps you will learn something in the process.” She looks him over one more time, and Julien feels his own breath catch, pinned down by her gaze. “But probably not. Good day, Sir Davinos.” with that, she turns on her heel and storms off, the faint scent of wildflowers lingering behind her.
Julien breathes deep, closing his eyes and trying to get his heartbeat under control. He is very adept at getting into arguments, but provoking Thaisha has its own thrill that he rarely gets elsewhere. She’s usually so easygoing, composed, but he’s able to cut right to the bone, and it delights him.
Alogar’s voice cuts through the heat and flowers and his eyes fly open, darting around until he locates the boy in the archway to the courtyard. “Sir?”
Julien lets out a breath. “Lunch over already? Very well, then. I want to see ten lunges, and if your arm extends after your foot, you’re starting over.”