| Subject: And I |
Author:
Dashell
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Date Posted: 05/ 1/05 2:43:06am Sun
In reply to:
Kyuusai
's message, "waraikai na Kyuusai" on 04/30/05 9:49:07pm Sat
Dashell watched his other students, making corrections to technique as needed. In a corner of his mind, he noted the boy's wings, his student's stares at the nature of it all.
"Stay on task." A few gawking students jumped, even at the soft tone through which he spoke. Dashell was a soft man, elven in grace, form and dignity. As elves were a very long time ago, before wars with the humans had begun and ended.
They boy's wings faded into only slightly less remarkable form, crystal blades catching the light and throwing it around the room with each fractured angle. A moving prism that eagerly devoured soup.
"Waraikai na Kyuusai." He was pointing to himself, a common occurence when languages varied. It was rare anymore, but then, others had been forming clans over the years and with clans came languages.
"I am Dashell." The old elf smiled in return, touching his own chest. "More soup?" An elderly finger pointed at the empty bowl before Kyuusai.
In Dashell's dojung, a variation of races interacted, moving fluidly with one another, attacking and counter-attacking. Some were better than others, several Forgotten using their wings as weaponry while elven fighters moved about to cause such things to be an encumberance. Others stepped more cautiously, motion coming haltingly as they tried to mirror an elder's actions. A brown haired Filanon with a circle of blue beads around his wrist spun a staff in silent practice of his own, an imaginary opponent dodging and pressing his actions. Even a rare human looked around with caution and continued moving step-by-step through a seamless dance of his own. A strange blend of hard and soft styles existed here, though no trace of magic lay suspended.
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