[ Wash isn't the type to crave or need praise, but it's appreciated, anyway, the affirmations of a mentor. Good. It's good to know he's on the right track. There is common ground when it comes to studying anything physical, when it comes to training the body in new ways and training the mind to fit, but swords seem a world apart from what he's used to. At least he isn't completely helpless, and it gives him some faith that with time he might make a decent enough opponent.
Not that'll it make too much of a difference. If they're fighting with the guerrillas out there and swords are really all they have . . . He isn't sure how they've lasted that long. He's held Cetagandan weapons, trained with York in their use. A rapier will do little, no matter how hard he trains, but that just means he has to learn it all the more.
He watches the way she moves when she steps forward, and that does seem to be exactly what she means for him to watch, with the way she lifts up the edge of her robes so he can see her feet, how she shifts her weight, how she balances between them as she slides into a mirror of the stance she'd shown him before. He notices the faded scars, old marks, maybe briefly smiles because he can guess at what they were from, can imagine her younger and training at the sword, no doubt hardworking, dedicated, and.
. . . Uh. ]
-- Dance? [ The bewilderment in his expression and tone is probably answer enough, but he does clarify anyway, clearing his throat. ] No.
Not even a little.
[ The way she asked the question is what's surprising. She presumes he dances, does he look like much of a dancer? Hell, the few times he's ever had to deal with something about dancing, he'd always been told he looks like he'd trip over his own feet or crush those of anyone he tried to dance with. And they were right.
She must dance, though, with how she'd asked him that, and he can definitely see it, with the way she moves and the grace with which she carried herself -- and the fluid, artful grace of how she'd moved with the rapier before when he'd handed it over to her. It was beautiful. A dance in it's own way. That -- that makes sense. ]
Does it help? [ Honest question, probably foolish sounding to her, but he's looked like a fool plenty of times this evening ( Wash is still too conscious of the paint thick on his face ). Dancing, he means. Does dancing help with swordfighting? ]
no subject
Not that'll it make too much of a difference. If they're fighting with the guerrillas out there and swords are really all they have . . . He isn't sure how they've lasted that long. He's held Cetagandan weapons, trained with York in their use. A rapier will do little, no matter how hard he trains, but that just means he has to learn it all the more.
He watches the way she moves when she steps forward, and that does seem to be exactly what she means for him to watch, with the way she lifts up the edge of her robes so he can see her feet, how she shifts her weight, how she balances between them as she slides into a mirror of the stance she'd shown him before. He notices the faded scars, old marks, maybe briefly smiles because he can guess at what they were from, can imagine her younger and training at the sword, no doubt hardworking, dedicated, and.
. . . Uh. ]
-- Dance? [ The bewilderment in his expression and tone is probably answer enough, but he does clarify anyway, clearing his throat. ] No.
Not even a little.
[ The way she asked the question is what's surprising. She presumes he dances, does he look like much of a dancer? Hell, the few times he's ever had to deal with something about dancing, he'd always been told he looks like he'd trip over his own feet or crush those of anyone he tried to dance with. And they were right.
She must dance, though, with how she'd asked him that, and he can definitely see it, with the way she moves and the grace with which she carried herself -- and the fluid, artful grace of how she'd moved with the rapier before when he'd handed it over to her. It was beautiful. A dance in it's own way. That -- that makes sense. ]
Does it help? [ Honest question, probably foolish sounding to her, but he's looked like a fool plenty of times this evening ( Wash is still too conscious of the paint thick on his face ). Dancing, he means. Does dancing help with swordfighting? ]