[ Small praise, but he'll take it. Dropping a blade on his foot ( especially when he's wearing sandals ) sounds like it would've been a much worse outcome.
Lakshmi braiding her hair reminds him a little of growing up on Leonis Minoris, when the war was young but it was less of a pressing reality and more of an ominous cloud hanging overhead, when it hadn't reached anywhere close enough for them to understand it, when he used to sit and braid his sister's hair. He's struck a little by how well it suits her, when she stands to move over to him, flicking the braid over her shoulder -- it's beautiful and delicate in a way, but practical.
When she starts to guide him, he listens with rapt attention, completely relaxed and allowing Lakshmi to direct him, taking note of the subtle way she adjusts his stance. His brow is furrowed in concentration, both watching the movement and listening to her words and feeling how the weight of the sword shifts against his palm. From the wrist, not the elbow, so more about fine motions than about the strong sweep of the elbow, more careful and more importantly precise. Precision seems to be the key.
When she steps back, he's already starting to mimic the motions, murmuring some of her words under his breath as he follows the movement. Every time he notices he gets something slightly wrong, he frowns, starts it from the beginning again. Slow, careful, deliberate, speed comes later, he understands that. There's a few times when he doesn't make a mistake but he doesn't feel confident enough in it and stops to start it from the beginning anyway, many times when he does make mistakes and likely doesn't quite notice until later, but he does clearly have absolutely no problem with memory, each pattern already engraved into his mind. It's just a matter of execution. Of practice. Knowing it like breathing.
Eventually he manages a series of strikes where he feels confident enough that he has the movements all correct, at least as precise as he can manage it, still at a slow and deliberate pace. He doesn't exactly stop, but he does glance back at her, a silent question, was that right, was there something I missed.
He's studious. Very studious. That much is probably obvious, now. ]
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Lakshmi braiding her hair reminds him a little of growing up on Leonis Minoris, when the war was young but it was less of a pressing reality and more of an ominous cloud hanging overhead, when it hadn't reached anywhere close enough for them to understand it, when he used to sit and braid his sister's hair. He's struck a little by how well it suits her, when she stands to move over to him, flicking the braid over her shoulder -- it's beautiful and delicate in a way, but practical.
When she starts to guide him, he listens with rapt attention, completely relaxed and allowing Lakshmi to direct him, taking note of the subtle way she adjusts his stance. His brow is furrowed in concentration, both watching the movement and listening to her words and feeling how the weight of the sword shifts against his palm. From the wrist, not the elbow, so more about fine motions than about the strong sweep of the elbow, more careful and more importantly precise. Precision seems to be the key.
When she steps back, he's already starting to mimic the motions, murmuring some of her words under his breath as he follows the movement. Every time he notices he gets something slightly wrong, he frowns, starts it from the beginning again. Slow, careful, deliberate, speed comes later, he understands that. There's a few times when he doesn't make a mistake but he doesn't feel confident enough in it and stops to start it from the beginning anyway, many times when he does make mistakes and likely doesn't quite notice until later, but he does clearly have absolutely no problem with memory, each pattern already engraved into his mind. It's just a matter of execution. Of practice. Knowing it like breathing.
Eventually he manages a series of strikes where he feels confident enough that he has the movements all correct, at least as precise as he can manage it, still at a slow and deliberate pace. He doesn't exactly stop, but he does glance back at her, a silent question, was that right, was there something I missed.
He's studious. Very studious. That much is probably obvious, now. ]