Once he has calmed down, Mason wipes his tears and looks at me with a slight disapproval in his gaze.
" Get up," He says stiffly, collecting his staff off the floor.
I rub the small bump in the middle of my forehead and push myself up, begrudgingly. I don't want to experience that ever again. One minute he was laughing and the next he was looking at me as if I'm an his worst enemy. I suppose I am, aren't I?
Swivelling the staff left and right, pacing in front of me," You could have avoided that strike. It was a simple, but yet effective one," His voice trails off as if he'd changed his mind mid-thought.
" One more chance," He says quietly, and resumes his fighting position in front of me, still playing with his staff as if it is nothing but a toy. In effect, it is a toy, a deadly one in the right hands. Not mine, clearly after what happened a few minutes ago.
" Strike first," He commands, and I feel slightly reluctant to enter a fight with him, afraid that he will hand me my ass on a silver platter, and then laugh his off.
" We don't have all night Lily. Sometime before the turn of the century would be nice," He urges me when I take too long to decide. There is a smile playing on his lips, but I'm pretty sure that it is more of a taunt, more than anything else.
I decide not to say anything but nod instead because at this point I have yet to prove myself against him. Fighters are a bit like wild animals. They have no respect for those weaker than them. If you're not on par, then you don't exist.
I take a few steps back to put some distance between us, making Mason frown at my choice of tactic.
Admittedly, it is not a great one but I'm a little out of my depth here, so I do my best.
Gripping the staff in one hand, I take two steps, plant the staff on the floor, and leverage myself against it, pushing myself in the air, with my feet aiming towards his face. It is not the best strike choice because he can see it from a mile away. He simply moves to the side and watches me fly past him and land on the floor, before I crash into the damn wall.
Repositioning my staff, I take one swipe at him straight away, he jumps back, avoiding the attack smoothly in a well-practiced move. I don't relent, putting all the strength behind my next swipe, going for his legs this time around. We share a weak point. We are both around the same height. I may be a few inches shorter than him, but regardless it is still our weak point.
He jumps backwards, landing in a half crouch, holding his staff behind him, perfectly balanced.
Needless to say, I am slightly out of practice, and somewhat drained from my earlier encounter with V'asay. But Mason seems unaffected.
I know my strikes lack precision, but again this is my first go with a staff so I give myself some slack for that. Practice makes perfect.
I lunge at him, and he simply twirls out my way like a damn ballerina ending right behind me. I'm huffing and puffing, and he hasn't even broken a sweat. I'm drenched in my own sweat. Not the first, and the last either.
Before I have a chance to turn around and attack again my feet get swept from under me. I crumble to the floor on a heap of tangled limbs while Mason is laughing, yet again at my inability to rise to the challenge.
" We need to work on your fighting skills," He says flatly, all humour is gone.
He twists the ring in the middle, and the staff returns the size of a baton with a hiss.
" We'll continue on Saturday. It is getting late, and I have a meeting first thing in the morning. We will reevaluate next time, to see if is necessary to increase your training sessions. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt today, because of what happened. I suggest you rest, and gather your strength. I expect you to be in prime condition next time we see each other. Understood?" He stares at me down his nose, where I'm sprawled on the floor. I don't even have it in me to feel embarrassed anymore.
" Understood?" He says emphatically when I don't answer. This feels a lot like boot camp
" Yes," I huff, as I push myself off the floor, but sadly any remaining pride I had has turned into dust.
He takes my staff, puts it away on the wall without another word, and then makes his way to the short flight of stairs we used to come down.
In uncomfortable silence, we walk side by side until we reach the foyer, and he strides down the corridor leading up to the teardrop room.
When he returns, he is donning his suit jacket, and slowly tugging on his swollen winter coat, looking ravishing, and unapproachable. At least for me, it is.
We've reached a hurdle in the road and I have no idea how to overcome it.
He is far too stubborn, and I'm far too inexperienced to deal with him.
This is not how I pictured our relationship would go. Relationship is a strong word, and a little far-fetched for what we had. I fleeting affair. Maybe I'm clinging desperately to something that wasn't meant to be.
Every time I try to let him go, there is a sharp pang in my heart, so strong that it hurts at a physical level. Sadly, despite our numerous disagreements, I still love him.
" I shall see you Saturday. Don't be late," Mason drags me from my thoughts, and I realise that we are outside in front of the door leading up to the dormitories. I don't even remember how we got here. I suppose, I instinctively trust him to not lead me astray. Although, he is not the greatest conversationalist, and very secretive, when push comes to shove Mason has been truthful to some degree.
" Sure," I say mildly flustered, while he nods, and stalks away into the darkness leaving me empty, abandoned and alone with myself. Which is a dangerous thing in itself. I might as well be locked up with a starving wild animal, the result would be the same.