"You'll want to make sure your dominant hand is leading your grip; that's the hand that will help you guide the broom," he instructed.
Nalé looked down at the broom between her legs, hastily wiping her sweaty hands on her pants before gripping it once again.
This was a really awkward position to hold.
She still could not wrap her head around the fact that out of all the things they could have chosen as a mode of transportation, a twig made the number one cut.
She willed her mind to stay focused on the task at hand.
Her complaints would have to take a backseat for now.
"Now," he continued, looking down at his own broom, "Imagine that your body is a reservoir, a container of sorts, and your hands are the faucet. All you have to do is picture the mana coming out of your hands and into the broom."
She practiced the recommended exercise, focusing on allowing her mana to flow and interact with the broom.
___
"I think my lips are bruised."
Nalé walked behind her captain with a noticeable limp.
The flying lesson had gone better than she'd expected. Levitating and getting the broom to move came easy to her.
Keeping the broom stable, however, was another matter.
And so they were currently walking back to the base after a blunder of sorts had allowed her to taste the delectable richness of dirt after faceplanting from a fall.
Yami turned to look back at the woman for any facial injuries but confirmed, just as he had seen earlier, that there were none.
"You look fine to me."
"I'm unfortunately not talking about the lips on my face, Yami."
He took a hit of his cigarette and pondered on what she meant for a second before wincing in understanding.
"You know, I had a bad broom once; its splinters really cozied up to my balls. I've been standing on my brooms ever since."
Nalé looked up at the man with a grimace.
Whatever pain she had felt riding that twig had left long ago, but she brought it up as a conversation starter and as a way to complain about the torture device.
𝘚𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦…𝘏𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦?
"That sounds like a nightmare," she shuddered at the imaginary pain of having splinters near her privates.
He looked up in recollection, biting at the bad habit that hung between his lips.
"They're fine now, but I have this slight fear of my future children being birthed as tiny wooden people."