Post by Bre on Oct 31, 2010 0:13:34 GMT -8
I did my best to notice . . .
Laraph, we are outside. Bring your rider. Eceph's command was delivered gently. She was still treating her daughter, her favorite of the clutch only by necessity, rather like a baby. Since the young gray could not quite fly yet, there was nothing for her to teach the growing simourv. Eceph was a creature designed to deal with adults, despite her mothering tendencies. She was a meddler, not a teacher. If grays were supposed to be wingletmasters or candidatemasters, they wouldn't have been designed to be Phoenixes. Each color had its place, though some had more variety than others. Even Laraph and her were different, but if one examined the blacks, one would find a rather repetitious set of abilities. Eceph was a female because she was gray. It was just something you knew. She waited with patience for her daughter to come out of the rather claustrophobic barrack.
Beside the gray simourv stood Ro'za, unhindered by weapons. She wore a white tank top, leggings, and soft boots. Sweat already trickled down her neck. The summer was hot. She didn't let it get to her, but she was aware of it. Aside from the sweat and multitude of scars that lined her exposed arms and hands, she looked almost like a real girl. She'd clipped her hair out of the way so that it wouldn't get in her eyes. She needed to saw it off again, but it was almost fluttering below her chin for once. Her clothes were formfitting, meaning that her extremely lacking curves were shown in their unimpressive glory. She didn't have much cleavage, but the existence of her chest was proven. For once, she looked reasonably pretty or sexy or however she was supposed to be described, which meant that, of course, she was going to spend the afternoon hitting stuff.
Despite I'dou's injuries, Ro'za wasn't about to allow her to fall behind in combat training. In fact, the grayrider rather expect her pupil to do better than the others. Even if a broken leg took months to heal, a little roughhousing wasn't going to do either of them any harm at that point. Rather looking forward to the impending lesson, she waited with the utmost patience, no sword hilt to tap in sight. What defined her from her simourv on that occasion was the fact that she was smiling. While Eceph was composed and calm as ever, the grayrider looked genuinely happy for once. It had to happen sometimes. It was extremely improbable that she could be angry all the time. On some occasions, when she had paperwork done and didn't feel like punching anyone too much, she felt happy. It wouldn't last long, but it was there for the moment. She loved hitting stuff.
. . . when the call came down the line.
