The Palace of the Dancing Winds
Courtyard
Sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting a soft dreary light through the morning mists. The white fog swirled and dances with the playful breeze creating the living but languid atmosphere. Kyera walked through the fog, gently dragging her hand through the moist air. She was early, but it didn't matter much. One could afford to be early when sleep had never been a option to begin with.
The sound of skin impacting skin caught her attention. She followed the sound, it wasn't aggressive. The sounds were harsh in the silence, but killing intent would add a layer to the sound. It was sharp and heady, but thankfully missing from this bought. She was slightly surprised to see Lazren sparing with a rather bored look on his face. Across from him, sweating and struggling a bit was the Fourth Prince. She cringed watching him.
His speed and grace were beautiful but, Lazren could have killed him multiple times. However, his form had one fatal flaw. It was textbook. She sighed wondering why the wolf had not corrected him yet the art of fighting and warfare should never be taken so lightly. Training was training, but this was… not even a game.
"Kyera, are you enjoying the view?" Lazren called out, his voice filled with teasing laughter. Kyera was grateful for this however. It gave her the opening she needed with minimal effort.
"Not as much as I should be. Lazren you aren't even helping him." Kyera scolded and the pair stopped sparing. Lazren looked at the Prince currently trying to catch his breath then at the tigress.
"You are misunderstanding. This is for stamina." Lazren replied with a chuckle. "Without stamina the rest won't matter." kyera sighed. Typical wolf Logic.
"Yes but learning bad habits at this stage will get him killed later." she countered trying not to sound annoyed. Lazren scoffed rolling his eyes.
"He is doing fine. Perfect form. Smooth motion what else could you ask for?" Lazren praised and Clovis smiled softly honestly relieved his hard work had paid off to such a degree. Kyera barked a laugh.
"It is hard to believe your known for fighting prowess." Kyera retorted with a frown. The hair on the back of his neck raised at the challenge. His pride felt oddly sore at her merciless doubt.
"Care to dance, Kyera?" he replied popping his neck to either side. The mist swirled between them as Kyera thought it over. She glanced at Clovis who seemed interested, but staying out of this one.
"Why not. It could amuse the Fourth Prince to see two conflicting disciplines." Kyera agreed, her reluctance more out of worry for the Prince then herself or Lazren. Would he understand the techniques and point of this or see it as showing off?
"I look forward to it then." Clovis stepped off to the side and took a seat on the soft, dewy grass. His training cloths loose and the top open a bit showing of his fairy like, slender chest. She blushed slightly turning back to focus on Lazren.
"Good cause we have never spared before." Lazren pointed out and Kyera chuckled. Neither of them had the advantage or disadvantage. It was simply two warriors one match. "Go ahead and change let's do this."
Kyera raised an eyebrow at first, hesitating before tilting her head. She couldn't change here. The law. If they were to spar it would be as humans. Then Lazren pointed at her long dress. It would restrict her movements a bit, the fabric wispily falling over the thicker under dress.
"Does a assassin give one such a luxury?" Kyera asked and both men looked startled. They had both changed into looser garments to move more easily during a fight. Yet she was willing to in a full length and unaltered skirt?
"Suit yourself, but if I win you give me a fight in actual sparing cloths." Lazren replied bowing to her to start the fight. Kyera bowed as well before taking a different stance from what Clovis knew. His body had been very straight and his arms up to protect his chest and face, a traditional stance for a fight. Yet Kyera was much looser. She stood similarly, except her knees were bent, her body pulled in and her hands were not balled into tight fists, just lightly curled. Her eyes were focused on Lazren, and her chin was level. A expert would call this sloppy, but Lazren was suddenly a little nervous.