Delphine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bladehood) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2012-04-01 09:09 pm
bladehood) wrote in exsiliumlogs2012-04-01 09:09 pm
Entry tags:
somehow I'll make a man out of youuuuuuuu
Date & Time: Some handwaved time after Martin asks for lessons in bladed badassery.
Location: Initiative Hold.
Characters:Delphine & Martin Septim
Summary: Martin wants to learn how to fight with a blade, and he's gone to Delphine to learn.
Warnings: Should be none aside from spoilers for Elder Scrolls Oblivion & Skyrim, will edit if anything else comes up.
So, Martin Septim - the hero of the Oblivion Crisis, the last of his bloodline, a man over two centuries dead - wanted her to train him in the use of a sword.
There had been a moment of hesitation on her part when the request had been proposed. Just a moment, of course, only a moment; she was a Blade and he was an Emperor, however much he might resist the title, and so she was his to command. For all they might clash in little ways, despite the gap between them of age and experience and memory, that much will always be true. Delphine rests her hand on the hilt of her katana for a minute, feeling the reassuring weight of the sword's presence, before drawing it: the blade practically sings as it's drawn, a testament to its sharpness. "I guess the first thing I ought to do is ask just how much you already know, or can remember."
She says it with her usual gruffness, if also with a certain wry edge to her words. What Martin did, his efforts, those will be remembered forever as a thing of magic - not of clashing steel, not of brutal stabs and swings.
Location: Initiative Hold.
Characters:
Delphine & Martin SeptimSummary: Martin wants to learn how to fight with a blade, and he's gone to Delphine to learn.
Warnings: Should be none aside from spoilers for Elder Scrolls Oblivion & Skyrim, will edit if anything else comes up.
So, Martin Septim - the hero of the Oblivion Crisis, the last of his bloodline, a man over two centuries dead - wanted her to train him in the use of a sword.
There had been a moment of hesitation on her part when the request had been proposed. Just a moment, of course, only a moment; she was a Blade and he was an Emperor, however much he might resist the title, and so she was his to command. For all they might clash in little ways, despite the gap between them of age and experience and memory, that much will always be true. Delphine rests her hand on the hilt of her katana for a minute, feeling the reassuring weight of the sword's presence, before drawing it: the blade practically sings as it's drawn, a testament to its sharpness. "I guess the first thing I ought to do is ask just how much you already know, or can remember."
She says it with her usual gruffness, if also with a certain wry edge to her words. What Martin did, his efforts, those will be remembered forever as a thing of magic - not of clashing steel, not of brutal stabs and swings.
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(Martin, however, didn't have the heart to confess he found such logic masochistic, instead opting to keep his shirt off so sweaty cloth wouldn't stick to his skin. Pragmatism, the hallmark of an Imperial.)
It's hard to be offended or annoyed at such an important inquiry. Martin Septim isn't much of a swordsman, frankly. But magicka ran out, and an emperor couldn't be seen fighting with a dagger as if a common thief any longer. Besides, he needed the exercise and the gladius was a perfectly serviceable, suitable symbol of the Empire's might.
"I remember the basics." You can't forget what's beaten into you with practice swords. The Blades were right, pain is a good incentive. "What I need to improve is my technique."
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