I need to grow, here I could be, Don't have to do this perfectly
He wouldn't complain to being given easy treatment, not in his current condition. Had he been well, whole and otherwise free from such god-given afflictions, he might have argued, but even then, being the novice he knew he was, he also could not pretend to be prepared to stand against the force that was the Sword. A nod was given in silent agreement; he trusted the General to know how to best approach this rather unique situation, grateful that the man gave Chuy any assistance at all.
He accepted the training sword proffered to him with ease, having basic knowledge in their use, swinging it experimentally both to test its weight in his hand and how much it hurt. Each movement pulled and stung, splitting skin and echoing a sensation of burning anew - but he pushed on with gritted teeth, acknowledging the pain was there but persisting. Then he copied the General as best he could, mimicking the pose and watching as the tower of a man stepped forward and struck the dummy with a violent sort of elegance, a clean and deft motion that was both offensive and defensive.
Chuy put all of his attention into the General's words and motions, committing them to memory as if his life depended on it - and it well might, one day. He lifted his sword in the same way Deimos had, making a similar motion, stepping forward. The motion was not nearly as fluid as the General's, nowhere near as practised, and hindered by the pulling, twinging stings of the burns besides. The blade made contact with the dummy, but it merely tapped it, as he flinched from the burns at just the wrong time, resulting in his step to be only half as big as he needed it to be to fully replicate Deimos'.
A low grunt of pain might've slipped from his lips, but he didn't let the misstep stop his determination. He righted himself, shrugging off the mistake from before, and made to repeat the motion, this time knowing what pain was going to come, and doing it anyway. He swung at the dummy and attempted to move his feet again, taking smaller steps this time, striking the target dummy (again without much force to it) but keeping his feet beneath him this time. "Rinse and repeat, I'm guessing?" he asked as he returned to the pose and awaited further instruction, knowing he wasn't doing well, but he was at least trying, despite it all.
He accepted the training sword proffered to him with ease, having basic knowledge in their use, swinging it experimentally both to test its weight in his hand and how much it hurt. Each movement pulled and stung, splitting skin and echoing a sensation of burning anew - but he pushed on with gritted teeth, acknowledging the pain was there but persisting. Then he copied the General as best he could, mimicking the pose and watching as the tower of a man stepped forward and struck the dummy with a violent sort of elegance, a clean and deft motion that was both offensive and defensive.
Chuy put all of his attention into the General's words and motions, committing them to memory as if his life depended on it - and it well might, one day. He lifted his sword in the same way Deimos had, making a similar motion, stepping forward. The motion was not nearly as fluid as the General's, nowhere near as practised, and hindered by the pulling, twinging stings of the burns besides. The blade made contact with the dummy, but it merely tapped it, as he flinched from the burns at just the wrong time, resulting in his step to be only half as big as he needed it to be to fully replicate Deimos'.
A low grunt of pain might've slipped from his lips, but he didn't let the misstep stop his determination. He righted himself, shrugging off the mistake from before, and made to repeat the motion, this time knowing what pain was going to come, and doing it anyway. He swung at the dummy and attempted to move his feet again, taking smaller steps this time, striking the target dummy (again without much force to it) but keeping his feet beneath him this time. "Rinse and repeat, I'm guessing?" he asked as he returned to the pose and awaited further instruction, knowing he wasn't doing well, but he was at least trying, despite it all.
CHULANE
